


Sun and Fire, Dragon and Spear

by marchofmay



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), pre-game of thrones - Fandom
Genre: F/M, House Martell, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Within the GOT Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchofmay/pseuds/marchofmay
Summary: Perhaps one day she would find a man worthy of her. And if she was even luckier, she would marry a man who would love her as she loved the Dornish sun. For that was what she wanted most of all.[A recount of Elia's life up until the Sack of King's Landing. Not for Lyanna/Rhaegar fans.]





	1. Under the Dornish Sun

“Elia, my dear sister.” Oberyn murmured. “Don’t lose heart.” He looked at her with those calm dark eyes, but still she could see the rage in his youthful face.

 

Tywin Lannister’s insult had not been taken well by the younger Martell. Not even her mother had been calm as they left behind the cold rock where the lions dwelled.

 

Even now as they sat in their carriage, the Lady Loreza Martell was silent and staring out the carriage window.

 

It was unsettling for Elia to see her mother so disheartened. Even after they had visited the Dayne’s and the Hightower’s her mother had not been this upset.

 

_“Not one suitable match for a Princess of Dorne. I am not asking for the Seven Kingdoms, am I?”_

_Elia knew better than to respond when her mother was in a mood such as this._

 

_“No.” Loreza Martell responded firmly. “Arthur Dayne prefers to swing a sword at the whim of a Targaryen king and_ **_you_ ** _,” she turned those burning black eyes on Oberyn where he sat beside Elia, his legs outstretched lazily in front of him._

 

_Elia could see what was coming next and she winced as her mother brought the back of her hand down on Oberyn’s shin. The prince started and hissed out at the slap._

 

_“You! With your infantile jokes and ruinous temper! You are to blame for the failure at Oldtown. And for the failures in the Arbor, the Shield Islands,” she brought her hands down again at his knee, “and Crakehall!”_

 

Her mother had been right. After all, Oberyn had insulted all but one possible match. Baelor Hightower had caught Elia’s eye, a tall and handsome man indeed. But after he had had a bout of flatulence in front of brother and sister, Oberyn had taken to calling him ‘Baelor Breakwind’, and Elia could not look at him but toburst into laughter. 

 

And thus the possibility of a match had failed.

 

 

The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had been different. Cersei and Jaime’s mother had been close with Loreza Martell when they served Rhaella Targaryen together. Oberyn had told her that most likely the two women had arranged a match between their children. He had also made it expressly clear that he despised Cersei Lannister.

 

_“If she pinches my cock the way she did that little Lion’s…” Oberyn shook his head, leaning into Elia’s ear as their mother bid goodbye to Lord Tywin Lannister, “Thank the Seven I have escaped her grip or I would not be able to produce a child.”_

 

_“And we know how heartbroken mother shall be.” Elia whispered back, her voice low with amusement._

 

_Oberyn chuckled, catching the green eyes of the young Lady Lion. “I pity the Targaryen prince. Tywin is already planning to sell his daughter to King Aerys to wed Rhaegar.”_

 

_Elia raised a brow, “Do not pity Rhaegar. He is a prince. Pity us. Reduced to being turned away without a match from a Lannister lord.” She sneered, her eyes fixed on Tywin Lannister - the traitorous man could not stay true to his late wife’s wishes. Not even a year after her passing._

 

Tywin Lannister had offered her his youngest son, the deformed Tyrion, as a husband. This was the slight her mother fumed over as they travelled home and it had taken a bell and a half to get Oberyn calm enough that chopping of the Hand of the King’s head wasn’t the one thing on his mind.

 

“I haven’t lost heart.” She frowned at her younger brother. “I never had it in the first place.” she murmured quietly, hoping to avoid her mother’s attention.

 

Oberyn grinned, “I am glad. What a sad pack of suitors you have to choose from.”

 

“I miss Doran and his cautious optimism. He would not have called Baelor that terribly funny name and ruined my chances with him.” Elia huffed softly, turning her nose to the air.

 

“You will thank me eventually when Baelor’s wife complains of his stink in the marriage bed.”

Elia held back a bark of laughter, knowing her mother would turn her judging eye upon her thin, plain daughter and find her wanting.

 

“And what of your stink? It’s filling up this carriage, I can hardly breathe.” Elia eyed her brother.

  
“Ah, this my dear sister is a man’s stink. You will grow accustomed to it, I’m sure.” Oberyn smirked his self-satisfied smirk.

 

“Be cautious, little brother. You don't know all of what I do when alone in Dorne.”

 

Oberyn fell silent, his dark eyes widening till it was almost comical. He threw back his head and bellowed with laughter at the thought of his sickly sister sniffing at available men in the streets of Sunspear. 

 

Their mother turned that eye on them in an instant and judged, and found them both wanting.

 

* * *

 

 

It was Sunspear that she had missed the most. The Dornish sun and the Water Gardens and the way the light played on the splashes made by the ever-present children there. It was Sunspear that was her home, and Elia was in love with it.

 

Even Oberyn grinned a little brighter in the Dornish sun, he stood a little taller when walking on the Dornish sand. And almost immediately in the week of their arrival back home, Loreza Martell began a new regiment to better her daughter’s health.

 

Her mother had decided that their failure to find a proper suitor was in part due to Elia herself. 

 

_“You’re too small - a slip of a girl. Hardly fitting of a descendant of Nymeria. You must lay out in the sun and get some warmth into your skin again. And you will eat more. You will benefit from a bit of fat on you, my daughter.”_

 

Elia had protested, but in the end she knew her mother to be right. Doran himself was encouraging her, and his betrothed, Mellario of Norvos, had become a fast friend.

 

“Are you prepared to marry Doran?” Elia asked.

 

Both women were currently sunning themselves by the Water Gardens, the sounds of children squealing and the splashing of water echoed out across the courtyard to where they sat.

 

“Prepared?” Mellario laughed, “No woman is ever prepared for marriage. It simply happens.”

 

Elia frowned, toying with a grape still attached at the stalk. “But you are marrying Doran for love.”

 

“I was not prepared for love either.”

 

Elia laughed, “Nothing is simple, I suppose. I do not know what mother wants from me. I believe I am incapable of looking like any other Dornish woman.” She popped the grape into her mouth and let the sweet and sour juice flood over her tongue as she bit down on the fruit.

 

“Perhaps. And if it is not to be, then you will find a man who will marry your waifish self.” Mellario grinned and Elia was struck with the dare of the Essosi woman. 

 

Doran and Mellario were so different it was a wonder how they could have fallen together as they did. Doran was so quiet and calm, always a pillar of strength, whereas Mellario reminded Elia of Oberyn at times. She was fiery and bright. Oftentimes Elia wondered that if Mellario had been born to Loreza Martell as a Dornish princess, perhaps there would have been a match to Arthur Dayne or Jaime Lannister by now.

 

“And what about bearing children?” Elia asked, watching the older woman as she plucked at cured meats set out on a platter. Elia was supposed to be eating them too, but her mother was not around to watch her opt for the fruit instead.

 

“What about it? I will do my duty as a Dornishman’s wife. And the wife of a prince, of course.” Mellario added before Elia could correct her.

 

Suddenly, the Norvoshi was leaning forward in her chair and her gentle hand was upon Elia’s. “Do not fret, good-sister. Your husband will be worthy of you. And if he is not,” she shrugged and gave Elia one of those grins that called to mind thoughts of Nymeria, “Then you will find other methods to have what you want.”

 

Elia laughed that loud and harsh laugh that set Mellario into her own laughter. For a moment, Elia dared to hope Mellario was right. Perhaps one day she would find a man worthy of her. And if she was even luckier, she would marry a man who would love her as she loved the Dornish sun. For that was what she wanted most of all.

 


	2. Storm Clouds

Oberyn knocked once on the door of her chambers but did not wait for her to let him in. “Elia!”

 

A shock of panic went through her at his voice, but when she caught sight of his face, and the giant grin upon it, she knew there was no trouble. “What is it, Oberyn?” She asked. She was alone today as Mellario was heavily pregnant with Doran’s first child. Elia had been waiting impatiently for news of Mellario’s health from Areo Hotah, who had promised to come to her after the maesters had finished their work.

 

Oberyn kept that insufferable grin on his face and to Elia’s horror he was sweaty and still holding his spear across his back, the wooden pole tucked into the crook of his elbow.

 

“Mother has just informed me about Prince Rhaegar’s engagement to Cersei Lannister.” He said, striding to the window that overlooked the fountains of the Water Gardens. 

 

Elia frowned, “I didn’t think you cared about Cersei Lannister or her betrothal to the Targaryen prince.” She went back to her needlework, although she desperately wanted to take a stroll outside. Her mother had asked her to stay inside today as she had news of a betrothal from an Essosi lord. It was not what Elia wanted, but she was getting too old to be picky now.

 

“I don’t give a damn about Cersei Lannister. Except this once,” Oberyn held up a finger and his grin widened. “Because our King Aerys has refused Tywin Lannister’s offer.”

 

Elia’s head snapped up and her hand jerked. She hissed, glancing down at the needle that pierced the skin of her thumb. She set her work down and stood even as Oberyn moved towards her to examine her hand.

 

His dark eyes roved her brown skin, but when he found it was not serious he looked back up at her.

 

“The Lion will be furious.” Elia whispered, still shocked. It had seemed so certain that Cersei Lannister would be Rhaegar’s bride. Elia was sure the news would spread like wildfire. She felt a brief stab of pity for the child, but she had no love of the ruthless Lannister. Rumours circled about the girl’s demeanour even thought she was but a child. Elia had not wanted to see her become queen, although she had kept those thoughts a secret.

 

Oberyn nodded, “Serves him right for the insult he paid us all those years ago.” He said, twirling his spear around him until Elia snapped at him to stop.

 

“Who will be queen now? Perhaps an Essosi woman. Aerys would have married Rhaegar to a sister if the queen had bore him one.”

 

“Only Viserys now, the little Dragon. Mother said that it was at the tourney that Tywin held for Viserys’ birth where the king rejected Tywin.”

 

Elia sat down again, toying with her needlework. “Well,” She looked up at Oberyn, sombre for some strange reason. “Rhaegar can hardly marry his brother, can he?”

 

Oberyn laughed and sat beside her. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Don’t you start.” Elia snapped suddenly, fixing him with her gaze.  


Oberyn raised his brows, “I take it mother has been speaking with you of late?”

 

She didn’t respond, but instead picked up her needlework again. Oberyn placed his hand over hers. “You’ll be fine, Elia. Mother is on the verge of panic because of the both of us.”

 

“She’s on the verge of panic because I cannot seem to find a decent husband, and you have fathered too many children for a boy of ten and eight.” Her words were sharp, and even as she said them she knew what her mother would say of her venom. The fact that her mother’s disapproval is what sprung to mind first infuriated her further and she snatched her needlework into her lap.

 

“I’ll take my leave of you, sister.” Oberyn stood and strode to the door. He left before Elia could possibly apologise. But she found that she did not want to apologise.

 

* * *

 

Mother was looking even further east for a husband. And while she made statements of a new lord or another who would take Elia as a wife, Mellario and Arianne kept Elia company in the Water Gardens.

 

Elia’s niece was a ray of sunlight in the darkening days of her life. She was increasingly ill, perhaps from the stress of her mother’s worrying. Arianne would spend time with Elia when her mother was not around and Elia doted upon the little girl.

 

Arianne had just turned three when Loreza Martell announced that Elia and Oberyn would accompany her to a tourney at Storm’s End. Despite the journey being long and arduous, Elia was grateful her brother would be with her.

 

She was even more grateful of his presence by her side when they arrived at Storm’s End to find the great Houses of Westeros all in attendance. Oberyn was puzzled by the turn out, but he didn’t dwell on it for long. In fact, he did not stay by Elia’s side for long as he had spotted some beauty or other that seemed to need his immediate attention.

 

Elia and her mother were led through the castle to be greeted by the Lady Baratheon. It wasn’t long before Oberyn turned up at their chambers to inform them that Aerys Targaryen, the king, had arrived for the tourney tomorrow.

 

“The king will be there?” Elia blinked and the strangeness of the situation settled over her and made her feel unsteady. She glanced at her mother, but found that Loreza Martell was only smiling.

 

Oberyn and Elia exchanged a look, but that was the last of the discussion about the king’s presence at the tourney. The day of the tourney came too soon. And still that feeling of discomfort plagued Elia.

 

The handmaidens that Lady Baratheon provided swept her up in a gown in the style of the south. It was too tight around the waist, and she could feel the dull bumps of the laces pressing against her spine. And her hair was swept up in the style of King’s Landing. Elia could hardly comprehend how the maids were braiding and twisting her dark hair up into a delicate design. But what was more important were the colours she was wearing.

 

Red and orange. It was Dornish enough that it would be safe, but there was something different about the red in the gown. Something darker. There was a lot of red, admittedly. She wore rubies, instead of the topaz jewels she usually wore.

 

When Oberyn saw her emerge from her rooms he had a slight frown upon his brow. Loreza Martell smiled wide, a rare smile from her mother.

 

“Come, my daughter. You look wonderful. Like a true princess.” Her mother linked arms with her.

 

Only Elia heard Oberyn’s mutters as they left the room, “Not a **Dornish** princess.”

 

Perhaps that should have been warning enough.

 

* * *

 

 

King Aerys II Targaryen was a beady-eyed man. Elia had always noticed his eyes first whenever she had seen the king in person. Which was rare. As of late he had not attended many tourneys or public events. _Paranoia_ , whispered the noblemen in Sunspear. _The Targaryen king sees enemies everywhere._

 

Even now as Elia and her family made their slow way towards the stands, and their seats, she watched as Aerys’ beady-eyes flitted about he crowd. He wore a perpetual mask of suspicion. As Elia sat down in the stands, she stiffened as the king’s eyes found her, then her mother.

 

Elia saw her mother nod her head out of the corner of her eye. Instantly, she gripped Oberyn’s hand where he sat beside her. Her brother had not seen. But Elia felt a rush of unease, so strong it almost convinced her to get up and beg leave of the tourney.

 

“What is it, Elia?” Oberyn asked. To his credit, her brother seemed to be taking her inexplicable tension seriously.

“Who do you think the prince will marry?” She found herself whispering, her eyes on King Aerys.

 

Oberyn frowned and followed her gaze. “Why are you asking this? He certainly won’t marry Cersei Lannister.” Elia saw Oberyn glance over at the Lannister girl, her green eyes staring straight ahead. “I couldn’t care less who he marries, to be truthful.”

 

“I suggest you start caring.” Elia snarled, her intuition making her fearful and ill-tempered.

 

Oberyn frowned deeper, shifting sideways to face her fully. Before Oberyn could question her, the tourney began with a round of shrill trumpeting. 

 

Elia could not concentrate. She watched the competing knights ride out on their horses, she registered the colours of each house. But her eyes remained fixed on the red and black rider. His silver hair peeked out beneath his helmet. Elia could barely breathe and she swore that his indigo eyes seemed to find hers in the crowd.

 

Perhaps she was just overthinking. Perhaps her mother had truly found a lord for her in Essos as she had said. But Elia glanced at Loreza Martell and something inside her told her not to be a fool.

 

She barely registered the events of the tourney. It was only when Rhaegar Targaryen rode that she returned to her body in the stands and watched him intently. There was so much power in him as he rode. Every time she watched him he won. And she would not take her eyes from him. 

 

Oberyn seemed to notice her strange demeanour and he kept sending her worried glances. She could not bring herself to explain to him for she knew his temper.

 

By the end of the tourney it was beyond obvious who had won. Prince Rhaegar rode out as the crowd cheered. Instinctually, Elia applauded as well, only so the king would not find fault with her.

 

A steward handed him a wreath of marigolds and daffodils. Summer colours. Dornish colours. 

 

His indigo eyes turned on her and Elia’s heart stopped in her chest. Oberyn’s hand found hers and squeezed. He knew. They all knew as Rhaegar rode his stallion up to where she was seated in the stands.

 

She could only stare, in both horror and disbelief, as he lifted the wreath on his lance to lay it in her lap.

 

Elia’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths and she wanted nothing more than to throw the wreath back in his face and run from them all. From the anger of Tywin Lannister and his daughter she could feel from across the stands. From her mother’s satisfaction and pride. From Aerys and his beady-eyes. From Oberyn and his iron grip, full of fury. Even from the prince. Who was only doing what his father had bid him to do.

 

He was doing his duty. Now she must do hers.

 

Even if it meant she may never see Dorne again.

 

Elia smiled brightly, that rare and charming smile that she reserved for the people she wanted something from, or that she truly enjoyed. She heard the crowd begin a polite applause and watched as Rhaegar inhaled and sighed his relief that she had accepted.

 

He nodded his head to her in thanks and turned his stallion away. The tourney was over. Only then did Elia touch the crown of flowers. She felt the soft, silky petals beneath her fingers as her mother bid her stand and leave.

 

Not even as they left did the eyes of the crowd stray from her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Elia was only filled with dread, not a sliver of excitement within her, as they returned to their rooms.

 

Immediately, Oberyn rounded on their mother, his face contorted in fury. “You want to hand her off to Rhaegar Targaryen?!”

 

Loreza Martell was a picture of calm and Elia wondered if her mother had transferred her usual panic and fear onto her children, while stealing their peace of mind for her own. She could not remember the last time her mother had looked so pleased.

 

“The prince is a fine match-“

 

“He is the best match.” Elia whispered, looking up at her mother and brother from where she sat on a cushioned chair.

 

“Or the worst! Depending on how you look upon it!” Oberyn fumed.

 

“You should be happy for your sister. Why are you upset?”

 

“Because Rhaegar is a prince and will have his duties, he will not treat her as she deserves. And she will have to birth him sons. Have you seen your daughter? Do you think she can birth him strong Targaryen sons? Before his mad father decides to send his good-daughter to the chopping block for failing to provide Rhaegar an heir that is suitable enough?”

 

Loreza Martell kisses her youngest son across the cheek with the back of her hand. A silence settles over the room following the crack of flesh on flesh. Of mother on son.

 

“Elia is strong enough.” Their mother murmured and Elia thought that today was a day full of reversals and strange occurrences. Her mother thought her strong?

 

“And you will hold your tongue. If anybody were to hear you speaking of the king that way…” Their mother didn’t need to finish the sentence.

 

“It’s not just that.” Oberyn said softly and Elia could see the calm fury in his eyes and was reminded of his nickname. ‘The Red Viper’.

 

“She will be in King’s Landing. Not in Dorne.” Oberyn looked to her then and she saw his fear. He was afraid of what may happen to her where he could not protect her.

 

Elia had to laugh. “I am not defenceless, little brother. I have my weapons, as you have your spear.”

 

Loreza Martell smiled again. She had made her mother proud twice in one day? The world must be ending.

 

Oberyn sighed heavily. “Fine. Marry the prince and give him his heirs.” He directed the last few words at his mother, “Mould her into a dragon. But she will always be the sun.” 

 

Her brother turned on his heel, his orange coat flapping behind him as he left the room.

 

“Your brother is a poet.” Her mother sneered, and Elia had no reply as she was ushered away and prepared for the final feast - wearing a gown of black and red.

 

* * *

 

 

Oberyn was upset still when Elia and her mother entered the hall of Storm’s End. The Martells were seated at one of the many high tables in the room, where Oberyn now sat sulking. Of course the Targaryens sat at the table that seated the guests of honour and Elia saw Rhaegar immediately, although he did not seem to be searching for her.

 

The sound hit her before anything else did. The sound of clinking glasses, and the bawdy laughter of men. The swishing of gowns as the ladies milled between the tables and spoke in softer tones.

 

It stunk of roasting meat throughout the room and Elia almost gagged as she took her seat beside her brother. Oberyn glanced at her gown and snorted, but he did not say anything.

 

Even Elia thought the gown was too much. Her mother was showing off her accomplishments and most likely attempting to make Tywin Lannister lose his ever present control.

 

The food was served not soon after Lord Baratheon made a congratulatory toast to Rhaegar for his success in the tourney, and of course he spoke of the honour of having the king here with them.

Elia only picked at the stew and meat and heavy dishes that sat like a stone in her belly despite the little she did eat. Her mother gave her a disapproving glance, but Elia did not find it in herself to care very much.

 

In fact, she could not seem to think about anything but the prince sitting at the high table. He smiled softly at those who approached him and he exchanged words with his Kingsguard, Arthur Dayne. Elia knew they were good friends and she had always had a fondness for Arthur’s sister, Ashara.

 

Rhaegar was handsome. It was the only thing that people could agree on when it came to the prince. His jaw was strong and firm, every line of his face a clear declaration. There was no softness there, no compromise in the way he was built. But his eyes were a different story. His eyes were kind, quiet, alluring. Elia could not seem to look at him without staring at his eyes.

 

He had a grace about him that made Elia think of the various ladies she had met throughout her life. He did not move like a warrior, but he had during the tourney. It was a contradiction. Most of the stories about Rhaegar were like this. They said he was a musician and a lover of books, but he was also a fierce warrior and a knight who could win any tourney. They said he was melancholic and quiet, but when Arthur leaned to whisper something in his ear, he let loose a laugh that was so loud and clear and rich that Elia found her own lips quirking into a smile.

 

It was then that Rhaegar turned his gaze on her and for the second time that day she felt the breath knocked out of her.

 

Those purple eyes softened, the laughter still shining in them as he nodded his head to her slowly. It was an acknowledgement and a promise of what was to come.

 

Elia did not blush and turn her gaze away, although she knew it was perhaps what her mother would expect. She smiled to him again and did not tear her eyes from his until his father stood and called for the attention of the room.

 

In an instant, she knew what the king was going to say. But when he opened his mouth and began his speech, she found herself hanging on every word.

 

“Good people of Westeros, my people.” Aerys reminded the crowd, his beady eyes still gleaming with paranoia even as he spoke with confidence. “As you know, my son has won the tourney today and crowned the most beautiful lady with a wreath of summer flowers.”

 

Elia felt the weight of eyes upon her, but she just smiled politely and watched the king. 

 

“He gifted this crown to Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne. And that is not the last crown he shall gift her.” Already Aerys was rushing through the speech, as if bored by his own words.

 

There was a murmur through the crowd and Elia dared a glance at Rhaegar. He watched her with a strangely expressionless face, until he saw her look at him and offered a kind smile.

 

The smile bolstered her, made her bold. Once again, as she had when Rhaegar had given her the wreath, she felt that perhaps she was not alone in this. That Rhaegar might be feeling some of the same things. That if he could do his duty, then so could she.

 

Elia straightened in her chair as the king went on.

 

“I am pleased to announce that my firstborn son, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, will be wed to Princess Elia of Dorne in the year to come. May she bear him many sons, as I am sure she will.”

 

The room fell silent as Elia met the eyes of King Aerys. His jaw shifted, as if he were going to say something more. But he sat down instead and announced a return to the feast.

 

There was a smattering of applause before the hall erupted into cheers and Rhaegar smiled as a wave of lords swarmed to congratulate him. The ladies lined before Elia. 

 

She clasped hands and presented her cheek to be kissed. She thanked the ladies so many times that she thought she would never feel true gratitude again in her life.

 

It was when Cersei Lannister stepped up to offer her congratulation that the buzz of speech dipped and rose again more hushed. Elia stared into those green eyes as Cersei grasped her hand, her bones grinding together at the strength of the younger girl’s grip.

Cersei smiled and Elia thought that House Lannister should change their sigil to that of a snake, for how their Lady smiled at her so snake-like and cruel.

 

“I am so pleased by this news. I am sure you will do well in King’s Landing, dear Elia.”

 

Elia smiled politely and squeezed Cersei’s hand with all her strength. She was pleased to see a flicker of pain cross the young lion’s face. “I am sure my husband will take good care of me there. And I will find a life of happiness under Prince Rhaegar’s cloak.”

 

Cersei’s smile tightened. “Indeed. And you will produce boys for him, I am sure. What a blessed union.” Cersei curtseyed and Elia bowed her head in response.  
  
Already they doubted her. She was too weak to give Rhaegar a son, too weak to give him what her duty required her to give.

 

As Cersei and her ladies-in-waiting turned and left, Elia returned her gaze to Rhaegar and she lost her breath a third time, but for an entirely different reason.

 

What if they were right?

 

Elia could feel the shadow and expectation of the Targaryen cloak on her shoulders as they left the hall that night, and then Storm’s End the next day. 

 

She wondered if she would ever truly feel her sunshine again. Or if the shadow of the Targaryen prince would haunt her until she met her end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I tried to research Rhaegar and Elia's betrothal announcement and I couldn't find any description of it in canon. Instead I found a quote that was said to Cersei about her betrothal to Rhaegar being announced at a final feast for a tourney. I decided to use the same idea but for Elia's engagement.
> 
> I also may have added in a scene where Rhaegar crowns Elia at a tourney because I can. And yeah, the crown is of summer flowers cause Lyanna's was winter roses and I'm a sucker for contrast.


	3. Starlight, Moonlight, and the Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult material.

“Elia?” Her brother stood by the doors of her room, just watching her sadly.

 

Oberyn had been so distant since the announcement of her betrothal to Rhaegar. It had only been in the past moon that he had seemed to realise that it was happening with or without his approval, and that his sister would be lost to the dragons soon enough.

 

Elia smiled and stood, moving over to her younger brother. It was too late for turning back now. Elia had taken her fill of the Water Gardens, had spent every day out in the sun. 

 

And every time the thought would return to her that she was not free, and she almost felt like she could feel Rhaegar’s eyes on her from across Westeros. Waiting for her.

 

He would not have to wait much longer.

 

“You have a pretty dress for the wedding?” Oberyn smiled, his voice quiet. He tilted his head downwards, looking at her from beneath his dark lashes.

 

Elia chuckled softly and cupped her brother’s cheek. How she loved her brothers. Doran had congratulated her and would often come to her in the Water Gardens and sit with her in silence for a while.

 

Mellario had been positive throughout, as well. Although sometimes Elia caught her watching her sadly and in those moments Elia would take her friend’s hand and smile her reassurance, even if she didn’t feel it.

 

Oberyn. How she would miss Oberyn.

 

Even as she stood here and forced herself not to cry, she could feel the incessant sting of tears behind her eyes.

 

“My little brother.” She smiled, taking his face between both her hands as he smiled.

 

“You only ever call me that when you want to remind me of my place.”

 

Elia laughed softly and leaned up to kiss her brother’s forehead. “Not this time, Oberyn.”

 

There was a moment of silence between the siblings as both of them attempted to organise their thoughts. “I will miss you.” Oberyn’s voice trembled and his hands rose to grip her wrists tight.

 

Elia smiled, “I know you will. But we will see each other again. And we have the whole journey to King’s Landing to take together. And the wedding to sit through.”

 

“Sit through? It’s **your** wedding!” Oberyn laughed and released her hands as Elia let her own hands fall to her sides.

 

She memorised his face as he laughed and looked back to her and then offered her his arm. She memorised the corridor she walked through and she memorised the feel of the warm sun on her back as she walked towards the carriage that would carry her away from home forever.

 

Her mother waited for her by the carriage and she saw Doran and his family climbing into another one just behind.

 

Elia couldn’t help it. She turned to look back at her home, if only to feel the sun on her face so she could memorise that feeling too.

 

Oberyn chuckled, “You act as if you will never see the sun again.”

 

Elia didn’t smile and she climbed into the carriage, watching as the door closed and she was left in the dim light, already feeling leagues away from her home even before the carriage began to move.

 

* * *

 

 

 

King’s Landing was full of noise. She found it too noisy. She could see people batting their hands against her carriage, calling out her name. Her mother said it was because they knew she would make a good wife for Rhaegar. Elia knew it was because she had money and they were hungry.

 

The stink of the slums permeated their carriage even as they rolled by on their way to the Red Keep. Oberyn wrinkled his nose at the sight of the towering castle, but didn’t say a word.

 

It seemed that the need for caution had already begun, even before they had stepped into the castle and into the dwelling of the king.

 

The Red Keep itself was imposing, without even a thought of the king inside it - or the prince for that matter-Elia was intimidated. Aegon the Conqueror had changed the face of Westeros forever, and built this monumental castle to his new dynasty. And now Elia would be marrying into that dynasty. She would be a part of it forever.

 

Suddenly, she couldn’t move her feet forward towards the castle doors. She was too weak, too frail to ever live up to the Targaryen dynasty. How could she produce a future king? A Targaryen? A **dragon**?

 

Oberyn stopped beside her and took her arm, leading her forward. Elia focused on his arm against hers, the warmth of her brother’s skin. What would she do without Oberyn and his warmth?

 

She looked up in awe at the Keep as she passed beneath the balustrade and into the echoing hallways of the building. Her future home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Oberyn had offered to walk with her through the castle gardens. They reminded her a little of Dorne, but everything was so pristine and silent. Elia wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy it here. Oberyn said she was being too negative. Elia pinched his arm and told him to shut up because he was not the one marrying Rhaegar Targaryen.

“If I were marrying the prince I wouldn’t be sulking around him.” Oberyn chuckled.

 

“You sound like mother, please be quiet.”

 

Oberyn frowned and opened his mouth to argue, before he blinked. “Oh, by the Seven, I do sound like her.”

 

Elia managed a laugh, but it was small and soft. Oberyn looked at her sadly, “Are you scared?” he whispered.

 

She looked to her brother and came to a stop at a wooden bench along the path. “I would be an absolute fool not to be scared.”

 

Oberyn sat at the bench and grinned, although his fingers tapped nervously against his crossed legs. “You are an absolute fool. From what I have heard about Rhaegar he is not a cruel man.”

 

“It is not his cruelty I fear.” Elia sat beside her brother.

 

“Then what?”

 

“It is his expectations.”

 

Oberyn frowned and took her hand in his, squeezing hard. “You are a Princess of Dorne. Descendant of Nymeria. You are a beautiful, clever woman. And the prince will know he is lucky to have you. He will cherish you when he knows who you are.”

 

Elia smiled then and kissed his hand. Oberyn chuckled, “Do not tell me I sound like mother, I know I do. The woman lives and breathes by Nymeria’s name.”

 

She laughed then, loud and barking.

 

“Prince Oberyn.” A soft voice called to them. The clink of armour and chainmail could be heard and Elia turned to find the tall figure of Prince Rhaegar, and beside him two Kingsguard. 

“Princess Elia.” Rhaegar spoke, even softer, as he came to stand in front of the bench. Oberyn and Elia stood, bowing and curtseying their respect.

 

Rhaegar nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Oberyn.” He addressed her brother, but his eyes were on her face. “It is an honour to have you here for the wedding. And an even bigger honour to be binding our houses in such a way.”

 

His words were soft caresses, floating through the air whimsically. Elia could not imagine listening to him sing. He felt elusive to her, as Rhaegar’s eyes flicked to Oberyn, awaiting his response. 

 

Oberyn grinned, his body lazy and his eyes flicking over the two Kingsguard. Most likely Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent, if Elia could guess. “Targaryens have married Martells in the past. Our houses have been bound for quite some time.” Oberyn mused.

 

Rhaegar’s thick brows rose and Elia wondered for a moment if there weremore snake than dragon in the man. Her thoughts were dispelled when Rhaegar smiled, flashing perfect teeth. It was too much to look at him when he smiled.

 

“Of course. Myriah Martell and Daeron II. Married so that House Martell could join the othershouses under Targaryen rule. I read of them once.” Rhaegar smiled to Elia then and she almost begged him not to smile at her, or look at her, or do what she knew he was about to do.

 

“May I speak with my betrothed alone for a moment, Oberyn? My Kingsguard will be with us. I will bring her back to you soon.” Rhaegar promised and even bowed ever so slightly. He knew Oberyn was over-protective and reckless.

 

Even now, Oberyn was looking to Elia, about to protest. Instead, he sobered and asked her softly, “What say you, Elia?”

 

She smiled when he offered her a say. “I will go with him.” She nodded. It was an illusion of a choice, for Elia could not refuse the prince, but at least Oberyn had acknowledge that she had a voice.

 

Rhaegar smiled and offered her his hand.

 

She had not touched him yet. And in her mind she had thought his first touch would be at her shoulders when he placed that dragon cloak around her.

 

But he offered her his hand, as if leading her to a dance. Elia smiled and wondered if it was not another sort of dance they were about to embark upon. One of polite curiosities and the weighing up of one another.

 

She slid her hand into his and found his skin warm to the touch. He smiled and placed her hand at his arm, but his fingers lingered for a moment on her skin.

 

Rhaegar led her away, down the pathway of the gardens. “Elia.”

 

She stiffened when he spoke her name and not her title. But this was her betrothed, soon to be her husband, she reminded herself.

 

“I hope you are not too upset by this arrangement our parents have made.”

 

Elia frowned slightly. He was asking about how she felt? “I am not upset. I know that my prince will make a fine husband, and I am honoured to be furthering the line of kings.”

 

Rhaegar smiled, but his eyes remained on her a moment too long before he faced forwards again. “If we are to be married…” Elia glanced up at him and found a light frown on his brow, “I would have you speak to me freely.”

 

“You want to know the truth of how I feel?”

 

Rhaegar nodded.

 

“What if you do not like it?”

 

He laughed then, a bright laugh that she remembered from the tourney where Aerys had announced their betrothal. “I will not dislike it.”

 

Elia raised a brow, smiling wryly. “You say that now, my lord, but I do not know you. And my place it to make you happy, is it not?”

 

Rhaegar stopped then and turned to face her. Elia met his eyes.

 

“It isn’t.” He shook his head, silver hair brushing the shoulders of his black tunic. “I am not the type of man to harm his wife if she displeases him. And I am the type of man who wishes to know how you feel about marrying him. I have heard much about you, Elia,” 

 

A shudder ran up her spine, out of pleasure or discomfort, she did not know. 

 

He continued, “And what I have heard is that you are a clever woman, with a sharp tongue and a soft heart. I do not find that description unappealing.”

 

She swallowed hard. “I do not find you unappealing.” It was a blatant appreciation. An obvious admittance of how she admired him, and more clearly, his body.

 

Rhaegar, to his credit, blushed and cleared his throat. “I know that many think you too frail.” He spoke without inhibition, to Elia’s surprise. She found herself holding her breath.

 

“But I look at you and see something more. I know you will do well for me. And I know you must be nervous. To be here alone, without family.”

 

Rhaegar sighed and his teeth caught his lower lip before releasing it. He watched her closely. He was calculating, despite the earnest words he spoke.

 

“But we are to be each other’s family now.”

 

It was a woman’s words, pouring from this warrior’s lips. Elia did not know how to respond. She did not know if this was real.

 

“I know such marriages do not always bring happiness. But I know that some have done well. And oftentimes husband and wife will come to like one another, even to love.” Rhaegar smiled and it made Elia’s heart jump.

 

Could he read her mind? Her innermost desires? How did he know what to say to comfort her?

 

She smiled and watched as he reached for her hand. She let him take it.

 

“I am afraid.” Elia whispered, deciding to be truthful with him. “But I will do my duty. And I will try to be… What you think we can be.”

 

Rhaegar let out such a sigh that Elia knew in an instant that he had been honest with her. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you.”

 

Elia felt her heart warm. Perhaps she could find another comfort here, if she could not have her brother or mother with her. Rhaegar had sought her out, knowing she would be afraid and nervous. And he had allayed those fears as best he could.

 

“I will take you to your brother. I know you will want to spend time with him while you can.” Rhaegar said kindly and led her back to Oberyn, who stood waiting where they left him.

 

At Elia’s bright eyes and sweet smile, Oberyn relaxed and grinned to Rhaegar.

 

The prince nodded to them both, releasing Elia’s hand. “Till tomorrow, Elia.”

 

“Rhaegar.”

 

He paused when she spoke his name, and something passed over his indigo eyes that spoke to the effect of her speaking his name to him.

 

“Thank you for finding me today. I look forward to what tomorrow brings.”

 

Rhaegar grinned and admired her, kissing her hand again a little more fiercely than before. He left brother and sister in the garden, his Kingsguard clanking and creaking as they followed behind their prince.

 

“Has he made his expectations clear?” Oberyn asked her softly.

 

Elia nodded and watched the sunlight reflect of his pale hair as he left.

 

“And do you still fear them?”

 

She smiled and shook her head. 

 

* * *

 

 

The wedding was exactly what they all expected it to be. There were no surprises. And the people turned out in their multitudes. Elia caught only a glimpse of the sea of them outside before she entered the sept.

 

When she emerged she would be a Targaryen, and Rhaegar’s wife.

 

Her mother had ensured that Elia was not frightened. She had allowed for the distraction of Oberyn while Elia dressed in the ivory gown. To her credit, her mother had allowed for gold embroidery along the gown, forming the shape of the Martell sun, and the flames of the Targaryen dragons.

 

The roar of the crowd could be heard as she entered the sept with Doran at her arm. Her elder brother had been a comfort to have beside her. He smiled softly and in it Elia saw certainty and strength, and took it for her own.

 

Mellario and Arianne had seen her before they had left the Red Keep for the sept. Not much had been said, but Elia was grateful to have seen them. Mellario had complimented her gown, but in a moment of privacy had gripped Elia’s hand and told her to remember what would happen that night.

 

Elia had almost forgotten about what was expected after the feast, when Rhaegar would take her to his rooms.

She pushed the thought aside as Doran began to walk forward, leading her through the crowds of novels in the Great Sept of Baelor.

 

Elia allowed a moment of wonder for the magnificence of the sept, the high domed ceiling and the grandeur covering every wall. She saw the same grandeur amongst the crowd, and knew that the Houses of Westeros were all in attendance today.

 

Her eyes found Rhaegar easily. Even if she had not been looking for him, she would have found him. He was tall, standing in his ceremonial tunic. A bright red dragon blossomed over his chest, a gold clasp securing a scarlet cape behind him. Over one arm hung the fur-lined cloak, the black material emblazoned with the red three-headed dragon of his house. Elia found her eyes drawn to the three heads of the dragon, and she knew that soon the cloak would sit on her shoulders and there would be no turning back.

 

Her own maiden’s cloak, of red and orange, slipped along the floor behind as she made her way up to the dais where Rhaegar stood waiting. He smiled to her and then nodded to Doran as both Martells came to a halt before the septon.

 

Elia looked up at the window of the sept, a bright seven-pointed star that let in the sun and showed her the sky. She watched it as Doran removed the cloak from her shoulders, taking away the orange material with the red sun and spear.

 

Rhaegar stepped up beside her, but the septon spoke first. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” The elderly man’s voice was rasping and he had such a heavy accent that it took Elia a moment longer to understand him.

 

By then Rhaegar had stepped up behind her and she heard the heavy flap of the dragon’s cloak before it settled on her shoulders. She reached up and fastened it, so it did not slip. Rhaegar caught her eye before he stepped back, and once again offered her a smile.

 

She wondered if he still worried about her unhappiness. If all his secret smiles just for her were to keep her calm and reassured. As if she were a child. Elia hoped not.

 

The septon spoke again and demanded the attention of the room. Elia could only focus on the roar of the crowd outside and the wash of pale light streaming in from the star shaped window above them.

 

It seemed only a moment later when Rhaegar turned to her and they joined hands. She felt his warm, rough skin beneath her palm and her fingers ran over them in an attempt to keep herself calm.

 

Rhaegar’s eyes flickered to their hands, then he stepped a little closer and began to speak. Although the words were custom, Elia could hear his soft reassurance. “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he paused, “And take you for my lady and wife.”

 

Elia felt the memorise words spring to her lips. She met Rhaegar’s eyes, “With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lord and -“ she hesitated, her eyes glancing at his lips.

 

Under her gaze, his lips pulled into a smile and he mouthed the last word for her. ‘Husband’.

 

Elia held back a laugh, looking back at him again. “And husband.” she finished.

 

The septon raised his voice a little louder, “I declare you both man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

 

When Rhaegar placed a gentle hand on her waist and pressed his lips to hers, all Elia could think of where those words.

 

_One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever._

 

Forever with Rhaegar was a nice thought, she decided.

 

* * *

 

 

The feast was a happy occasion for the attendants. The king had spared no expense, and the gardens of the palace were littered with entertainers and enough food to feed an entire army for months. 

 

The hall where the lord and ladies sat and ate and drank was echoing with the sweet music of the musicians in the corner. Elia watched her new husband as he watched them. She had almost thought the rumours of his musical inclinations were false, but watching him now she could see the admiration in his eyes. The way the music spoke a secret language to him.

 

Elia smiled and cast her eye about the crowd. Queen Rhaella had spoken to her not long after the ceremony. Her new good-mother had her son’s kind eyes and gentle touch. She had helped remove Elia’s cloak to set aside, for she could not wear it to the feast as it may get ruined in the bedding ceremony.

 

The bedding ceremony. It was a daunting end to the evening that was proceeding so well. She wondered when the king would call for it, and she was on the edge of her seat as the evening grew later.

 

Oberyn cast her a glance, but his eyes were stony. She knew he hated these customs, but he could not interfere. Elia was hoping Rhaegar would say something to her about it, but her husband had only spoken of the food, and of the weather, a sure sign that their union was blessed.

 

It seemed his candour from the gardens was no longer present.

 

Rhaegar was jerking his knee as his father stood and called for an end to the music. Suddenly, Elia felt Rhaegar’s hand on hers beneath the table and he gave it a gentle squeeze as Aerys announced the bedding ceremony as best as he could in his drunken state.

 

A lord surged forth, obviously from the North with the way his facial hair was unruly and from the furs that lined his tunic. He lifted Elia onto his shoulder in one strong motion and a cheer rang out from the crowd.

 

Elia cast one look back at her brother, watching his sharp eyes glare at every man that stood to begin tugging at her clothing.

 

She caught sight of the women flooding Rhaegar, and he stood, allowing himself to be tugged and yanked along, and allowing their slender hands to unbutton his tunic and unclasp his cloak. The scarlet material went flying as a lady tossed it away. Elia lost sight of her family as she rounded the doorway and the men took her down the hall.

 

A hand wrapped around her ankle, some lord attempting to unbuckle her shoes as another yanked at the laces at her back. She kept her face stoic, but when one lord reached up and tugged a sleeve down her shoulder, she had to squeeze her eyes shut in horror.

 

A rough and calloused hand slid so far up her thigh that she thought she might scream and beat him back, but the man just gripped her petticoat and let it fall away behind her as they made their raucous way down the corridor.

 

They jeered at her, shouting the worst sort of profanity. It was as though she was no longer a lady. She could feel their eyes on her as they exposed her body, leaving only her thin shift behind.

 

The Northern lord laughed at the joke of another man and released his grip on Elia’s hips. She shrieked as she fell backwards into the arms of another male.

 

Suddenly, her bare feet hit the icy floor outside of the prince’s chambers. She saw the flurry of women coming down the hall and caught sight of his silver hair before she entered his chambers and left the men behind. They did not stop calling out lewd things, suggesting that Rhaegar have her one way or the other, suggesting that he test her before he put his heir inside her.

 

Elia swallowed hard and set about removing her jewelry and undoing the intricate braids from her hair. She wished she could have kept her cloak, even if it was a Targaryen cloak. It would have helped her feel less exposed now.

 

The door opened and Rhaegar stepped in, closing the door behind him with a small chuckle. She could still hear the men and women outside, but Elia focused on Rhaegar in his undershirt.

 

He smiled, running a hand through his hair and approaching her. “I am sorry for that.” He said.

 

Elia shook her head and swallowed hard again, “Don’t be. It is our duty.”

 

“It is my duty to put a son in you now.” Rhaegar whispered, as if he didn’t want the people outside to hear. His words washed over her, sending a shiver up her spine.

 

“Then you should do your duty, my lord.”

 

“Rhaegar. I am your husband now.”

 

Elia smiled and nodded, “Of course. Rhaegar.” she tested his name on her tongue, liking the fullness of the word, the way it made her feel strange and special.

 

“Doing your duty is not usually enjoyable, is it?” He whispered.

 

Elia shook her head with a wry smile. “No.”

 

“Tonight it will be.” He promised, taking her hand in his gently.

 

“Tonight it will be more than duty. It will be man and wife, as they should be. Do you want that?”

 

He was asking her what she wanted.

 

Elia watched as he raised her hand to his lips and turned it over so it lay palm up in his hand. He pressed his lips to her palm, then another kiss to her wrist. He looked up at her for a reply, his lips hovering above her skin.

 

She could barely summon the breath needed to whisper, ‘Yes.’

 

Rhaegar grinned and kissed her wrist again before he tugged her closer by her hand. Elia looked up at him, sliding an arm around his shoulder boldly. He hummed his approval and kissed her.

 

At first it was soft, and slow. At first it felt like he was tasting her, savouring her. But when her fingers found their way to his hair, tangling in the silver locks, his kiss changed to something fiercer.

 

His hands gripped her waist, one sliding to her hip as his lips locked against hers like they belonged there.

 

Elia released a soft moan and Rhaegar seemed to growl from someplace in his chest as his hands tightened on her body and he lifted her up. 

 

She blushed when he crossed his arms beneath her backside, supporting her weight on his forearms. The kiss broke when Elia straightened and looked down at him.

 

Admiration filled Rhaegar’s eyes and made her heart soar. He breathed out a laugh. “My wife.”

 

Elia laughed and nodded at the strangeness of it before he lowered her to his bed.

 

His room was full of dark wood furniture, carved with flames and dragon figures. His bed was soft and large and Elia lay in the middle of it. Rhaegar lifted her, tugging down the red sheets to reveal white linen coverings.

 

He brought his lips to her neck, his hands travelling along her sides to the hem of her shift. In a moment, when Elia lost herself beneath his tongue and teeth, her shift was gone and she was bare.

 

Rhaegar pulled back and his eyes followed her body before a smile blossomed across his face. “You are beautiful.”

 

She believed him. And as he leaned back down to kiss her again, Elia lifted the hem of his undershirt until Rhaegar laughed against her lips and had to pull back to pull the material off of his body.

 

Elia could not stop staring at his body. He was lean, hard and soft at once, a contradiction even to his flesh.

 

She smiled unbidden and Rhaegar lifted her up till she was seated in his lap and his legs were spread across the bed behind her.

 

“Will you speak to me if you are uncomfortable?”

 

His words brought her back to the present, and the step she was about to take with this prince, this man, who was now her husband.

 

Elia nodded, “I will. And-“ she bit her lip, hiding a smile. “You will do the same.”

 

Rhaegar laughed that loud and beautiful laugh that made her feel like she had accomplished something wonderful. He kissed her again and his hands roamed her flesh, touching her skin and making her moan.

 

When he lay her back and met her gaze, she nodded. And when he slowly pressed inside her, she let out a sigh of pleasure. He watched her through it all, his hand coming down to where they joined and pressing against her, igniting a fresh wave of pleasure in her core.

 

She threw her head back and whispered his name when she came undone. And when he followed after she lost herself a second time beneath his thumb, he pressed his face to her neck and spoke her name into her skin in a way that made every part of her relax and tense all at once.

 

He had her one more time that night, slipping down till his face was betwixt her thighs, and until his mouth made her need him again. He was rougher the second time, his hips pressing against her as he filled her to the brim and she overflowed with happiness.

 

Once they were spent, he lay beside her and laughed softly. Elia laughed too, facing him and watching the sweat gleam along his pale skin. “Rest, my husband.” She whispered softly, hoping he could hear her affection in the words.

 

Rhaegar smiled and kissed her, his lips lingering for a moment. “My wife. My love. My dream.” He breathed out.

 

Elia felt his chest against hers as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Rhaegar pulled the covers over them, enveloping them in warmth, but Elia was warm where she lay. Tucked up against the dragon, she glowed like she was the sun and fell asleep smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing another that resembles a sex scene, please forgive me.


	4. Seaside Stones and Churning Waters

Elia did not expect that Rhaegar would take her to Dragonstone. But it was just after their wedding night that he came to her in her chambers and knelt in front of her and said that he would take her to his home.

 

It wasn’t long after she arrived in the grey, cloudy island that she began to show signs. Ashara Dayne had become her lady-in-waiting not long after the wedding, and she was the one who held Elia’s hair back as she had her sickness in the mornings. She noticed Elia’s fatigue and her swelling breasts.

 

Rhaegar still came to her every night in her chambers at Dragonstone. His body was so familiar to her, and hers to him, that every time he undressed she felt a rush of warmth at the idea that he belonged to her in a way. That in her memories she had had her hands all over that body.

 

He stayed the night almost every time.

 

Sometimes he left for long periods, travelling to Summerhall or on business for his father. Whenever he came home he would spend a whole day with her to make up for his absence.

 

He had been gone for a week before Ashara announced he would be returning to Dragonstone that day. Elia brightened at the news and waited until the evening when he would come to her room. She had debated with Ashara about how she would tell him the news.

 

_“Just be frank with him. He should be happy.” Ashara said._

_Elia blinked at her friend, “It isn’t that simple. Not with us. Not with this child being the future of his House, of Westeros.” She murmured, and suddenly she felt ill._

_Ashara, her beautiful friend, sat beside her and took her hand. She reminded her of Mellario. A strong woman, with set ideals. And always having a lesson for Elia._

_“You love Rhaegar and he loves you. He will be pleased, and you will have a prince by your side even if the child turns out to be a girl. He will have a daughter and better yet, you will have a daughter.” Ashara smiled._

_Elia laughed softly, “If I can survive this pregnancy I will have a daughter. If I do not, I will be dead and Rhaegar will have a daughter and will need to marry again to produce an heir.”_

_Ashara let out a frustrated sigh, “Why are you worrying? You haven’t shown any signs of a complication, let alone died yet!”_

_Elia laughed and shook her head, returning to her needlework. “I know my body. And I know what my mother would say.”_

_“Your mother isn’t here.” Ashara said kindly and Elia paused for a moment. She missed her mother. And Oberyn. She wanted so desperately to send them news of her pregnancy so that they could come visit her, or perhaps she could visit them. To see Dorne again would lift her spirits. And she could do something other than needlework, and waiting for her husband to return to Dragonstone._

 

Rhaegar’s knock was soft at her door, but she her it instantly and stood. When she opened the door and saw his face, something in her heart eased and she beamed at her husband. Rhaegar’s own eyes lit up at her expression and he entered her room without a word. 

 

Almost immediately, he had his hands on her cheeks and his lips upon hers. He coaxed a kiss from her, his lips moving against her with such skill and persuasion that she parted her lips to him and let herself forget her worries for a moment.

 

When he did pull back, Elia stopped him from undressing with a gentle hand on his chest. He raised a brow, “You don’t want me tonight?”

 

His words, somehow, tore at her and immediately she shook her head. “I will always want you, Rhaegar. But I have something to say.”

 

He smiled, taking her hand from his chest and kissing it. “What troubles you?” He asked, catching the slight hesitation as she attempted to voice her thoughts.

 

Elia took his hand between both of hers and placed it at her abdomen. She curled his fingers around the swell of their baby inside her and Rhaegar’s eyes widened. 

 

“You are…?” He trailed off, his eyes returning to her own. 

 

Elia smiled tentatively, “I am.”

 

He smiled so wide she thought it had been impossible for him to be so happy. Relief washed over her as he knelt before her and pressed a kiss to her stomach. He laughed, lifting her shift up to her waist to kiss her bare belly.

 

Elia ran her fingers through his silver hair. Rhaegar looked up at her, “Our first dragon.” He whispered.

 

She smiled and nodded, but inside she thought the child would be more than a dragon. They would be her sunshine too.

* * *

 

Elia could not have guessed that her pregnancy would leave her so weak.

 

Ashara had been with her when her swollen belly had ached for a moment and then liquid had run down Elia’s legs and onto the stone floor of the dragon’s keep.

 

She had yelled herself raw during the labour, and had heard only a single cry of her child before she had fallen back on the damp sheets and lost consciousness.

 

It was a blur of days and images. Her child, tiny and red, only a flash of an image as she opened her eyes, then fell back under from the effort. Rhaegar was there, his warm hand on her own. Ashara and Arthur Dayne, speaking by the door. She wondered faintly how Rhaegar was. But most of herblurry thoughts revolved around her baby. She had not even held her child, she could not go till she had held her baby.

 

Elia woke two moons after the birth of her child. Ashara was beside her, holding her hand. “Elia?” Her friend looked tired and strained, as though she had been the one about to die. “Oh, thank the seven! Elia’s awake!” Ashara called to someone out of view.

 

Elia shifted with a groan, attempting to sit up. With Ashara’s help, she managed to rest back on the cushions, her body weak and frail from the movement. She panted from the effort, and fear coursed through her at the severity of her situation. She could not even sit up on her own, and even then without getting winded.

 

Those fears left her head when she saw Rhaegar enter the room, a small bundle of cloth in his arm that was wiggling about. He smiled to her and Elia almost burst into tears at that sight.

 

As Rhaegar approached, Elia straightened to try to get a look at her child. “A boy?” she asked, her voice soft and hoarse.

 

Rhaegar’s smile faded, “No, a daughter.”

 

Elia searched his face for his disappointment, but she found nothing but relief and love for the child in his arms. It was puzzling. Shouldn’t he be disappointed that she did not give him an heir?

 

She couldn’t focus on those thoughts when Rhaegar lowered her daughter into her lap. The little girl was a Martell in appearance and Elia could not hide her smile of pride as she stroked her little girl’s dark hair.

 

Elia kissed her daughter’s little face and the child gurgled, wiggling in her lap. A sob broke out of her at that. Rhaegar smiled softly and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing.

 

“Your father?” Elia looked up at Rhaegar’s puzzled face. He realised what she was asking a moment later, and his expression fell. 

 

Ashara shared a look with him before she spoke, “He wants a boy. And he said she… is too Dornish.”

 

Elia knew those had not been the king’s exact words. And she was glad she did not know what he had said, for it was sure to anger her and that seemed too much effort at the moment.

 

“I am sorry, Rhaegar.” she whispered, ever the dutiful wife.

 

Rhaegar frowned and shook his head. “I wanted her. I want her. And I am grateful you brought her to me.” He said. “My Rhaenys.”

 

Ashara shot him an angry look as Elia stiffened.

 

“Rhaenys?”

 

Rhaegar swallowed nervously and nodded, “I have named her Rhaenys.”

 

Elia was calm, but she could feel the anger bubbling up inside her. Rhaenys had been Aegon the Conqueror’s sister-wife. And when she had come to Dorne, after being warned once to never return, the Dornish had killed her dragon - Meraxes - with a scorpion bolt through the eye, and Rhaenys had fell to her death. 

 

The second Rhaenys - The Queen Who Never Was - had died during The Dance of the Dragons, where she had been on the side of Rhaenyra, the late king’s daughter who he had legitimised before his death. Unfortunately for Rhaenyra, her father had remarried to a Hightower and their son claimed the Iron Throne after the king’s death. Rhaenys had flew her dragon Meleys into a trap during the war. Her half-brother, King Aegon II, and the Prince Aemond One-Eye had fought her atop their dragons, Sunfyre, and Vhagar, respectively. Rhaenys perished that day, burned to a crisp till she was unrecognisable. And Rhaenyra had ended up in the jaws of Sunfyre by the end of the dragon war.

 

It was a name riddled with misfortune. And Rhaegar had given it to their daughter.

 

“You know the history of the name.” Elia said, her jaw clenched.

 

Rhaegar nodded, “I do. But it is a strong Targaryen name. And she is a Targaryen.”

 

“Does she look like a Targaryen?” Elia demanded, letting her anger enter her voice. She knew she should not have said it.

 

Rhaegar’s face tightened. “She is a Targaryen. Whether she resembles one or not.”

 

“Why that name? My people killed the first Rhaenys. The second perished at the battle of Rook’s Rest. Why would you give our daughter such a tragic legacy?” Elia demanded, her breathing heavy.

 

The baby squirmed in Elia’s lap and began to whine. Ashara swept her up and took her from the room. Took **Rhaenys** from the room. Her daughter, **Rhaenys**. Elia could not keep the sneer of disgust from her face, too tired to school her features into a more agreeable expression.

 

Rhaegar’s fist clenched, “Elia.” 

 

She avoided his eyes.

 

“Elia, she must be named Rhaenys. You do not understand.”

 

Elia waved a dismissive hand, leaning back on the pillows in exhaustion. “You’re right. I don’t. But I will not fight. I assume her name has been announced?”

 

Rhaegar nodded. “I would have waited for you to wake. But it was growing late…”

 

Elia shook her head, “It does not matter.”

 

Rhaegar left then, leaving her to fall into a deep sleep, her exhaustion taking over her.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Despite her weakness, and her anger over Rhaenys’ name, she could not help but fall in love with her daughter.

 

Ashara helped her take slow walks about the keep, and Rhaegar came and went as he did.

 

Four moons after the birth of Rhaenys, Rhaegar announced they would be returning to King’s Landing. Elia knew why. They had been away too long, and with Rhaenys old enough to travel it was time to return to court.

 

Elia was too tired to do much, but she knew she would need to at least look stronger for fear of the gossip that her weakness would breed in King’s Landing.

 

King’s Landing was ever the same, and when she arrived Elia was greeted by Queen Rhaella. The Queen had a bruise on her wrist when she cupped Elia’s cheek in greeting. Elia did not say anything, but she could see the dark marks were in the shape of fingers.

 

King Aerys was dismissive of her, as usual. He spoke only of how she had yet to bring Rhaegar a son. And he referred to her as ‘that Dornish girl’, as if reminding the court of who she was, and how she was different from them.

 

Elia didn’t mind as much as she should have. She was glad to be thought of as different. She did not think she would want to be thought of as the same as King Aerys.

 

It was time for Elia to wake up. Dragonstone had lulled her into a sense of security, and it had brought her comfort. But now the court had their eyes on her and Rhaenys. And she did not have Rhaegar here to help her.

 

She was given a grand set of chambers, and Rhaenys enjoyed the new toys gifted to her by the lords and ladies of Westeros who had heard news of the princess’ coming to King’s Landing.

 

Elia was surprised to find a friend in Viserys, Rhaegar’s younger brother. The little boy was but four years old. Elia thought that he would get along well with her niece, Arianne, who was the same age as the boy. He reminded Elia of her niece, with his bright smile, and the way he would hold to her skirts and follow her around.

 

Ashara laughed one day when Viserys peeked into Elia’s chambers, searching for her with those purple eyes. “He has come again. The second Targaryen prince to fall in love with you.”

 

Elia laughed and stood from her seat to beckon Viserys to her. The little boy walked over to her with a smile. Rhaenys, still a little babe, leaned on Ashara and chewed on a doll gifted to her by the Hightowers. 

 

“Elia!” Viserys held to her skirts and looked up at her, and she stroked his silver hair gently.

 

“Hello, Viserys. How are you today?”

 

“I’m okay. My mama said that-“ the little boy was distracted by Rhaenys, and he fiddled with Elia’s red skirts. Of course, she was wearing red and black.

 

“Yes? Your mother said what?” Elia prompted.

 

Viserys nodded and looked back up at her. “She said she want to speak to you.”

 

Ashara and Elia exchanged a look and Elia took Viserys’ little hand in hers. “Why don’t you bring me to her then, little one?”

 

Viserys smiled and nodded, leading her to the door.

 

The little boy walked with her through the corridors of the Red Keep. Two Kingsguard followed them, Ser Jonothor Darry, who had escorted Viserys to her chambers, and Ser Barristan Selmy, who was posted outside Elia’s chambers with Ser Oswell Whent. Whent remained behind to protect Rhaenys as Viserys and Elia left for the Queen’s quarters.

 

Outside Rhaella’s door stood Elia’s uncle, Lewyn Martell. Aerys had called for Barristan to replace Lewyn as Elia’s guard, since he felt uneasy having the two Martells so close together.

 

Her uncle nodded to her as she passed by and entered Rhaella’s chambers. There was an uneasiness in the air and Rhaella’s ladies-in-waiting shifted as Elia entered with Viserys.

 

“Please take Viserys to the gardens.” Rhaella spoke, her voice low and deep. One lady moved to take the little boy’s hand, and he waved goodbye to Elia as they both left the room. Elia caught sight of Jonothor Darry following them before the doors shut.

 

“Elia.” Rhaella spoke, beckoning her over to where she sat on a chair in the middle of the sitting room.

 

Elia smiled and moved to take her good-mother’s hand. She liked Rhaella, and always worried for the queen when the king was in one of his moods. As of late, Rhaella had been calling for her more often, and sharing more details of what the king would do. Elia was filled with rage each time, and not for the first time did she wish she were a man so that she could do more for the queen. Although, she knew even a man could not stand against the king.

 

Elia suspected that Rhaella was lonely. And she did not mind spending a few hours with her, if only for the chance that the king would be deterred from visiting her during those hours.

 

Elia took a seat beside the queen and Rhaella smiled. “My son has sent word. He will return within the week.” She smiled and Elia returned the smile, her heart lifting.

 

“You have been writing to him?” Rhaella asked.

 

Elia nodded. She wrote him weekly, giving him updates on Rhaenys and putting in a line or two about how she was faring. He always responded with a promise to return soon, and his letters never failed to make Elia smile, and feel a little less alone.

 

Rhaella patted Elia’s hand. “How is your mother?” she asked.

 

Elia and Oberyn had been corresponding as well, although her brother was not as prompt as her husband with his replies. His last letter had informed her that their mother was not faring well with the illness that had come over her. Elia knew somewhere inside that she may not last two moons. She desperately wanted to see her mother, but Aerys had forbid it when Rhaella had asked on her behalf.

 

The king’s paranoia had grown to new heights. Elia was used to the snide comments and abrasiveness of the king whenever she attended court. But to forbid her to see her dying mother was something she could not abide. Rhaegar had promised to take her to Dorne, but Elia knew it was a bad idea. If he openly disobeyed his father there was no telling what Aerys would do.

 

And Aerys had become increasingly suspicious of Rhaegar and his popularity. He had made many remarks on the prince’s image, and how he would need to keep him away from court for fear the people would fall deeper in love with him. His comments were not rooted in approval, but in jealousy. And Rhaella had advised Rhaegar to remain away from court as much as he could.

 

“Oberyn has said she is growing worse.” Elia murmured.

 

Rhaella sighed her sympathy and patted Elia’s hand gently. “I am sorry to hear it. Your mother has always been a good friend of mine.”

 

Elia smiled and noticed the bruise on her forearm as the sleeve of Rhaella’s gown slid up. She said nothing, but she knew Rhaella would speak to her should she wish it.

 

“I remember when Joanna and Loreza were my ladies-in-waiting.” Rhaella smiled, her purple eyes warm. Elia watched her queen with admiration. She didn’t know how Rhaella found it in herself to smile, after all the king had done to her.

 

“They were good friends, your mother and Joanna Lannister. And they treated me well.” Rhaella sighed at the memory. 

 

Elia didn’t voice what she was thinking. That now both her ladies-in-waiting would soon be dead.

 

Rhaella smiled and launched into her plans for a banquet to celebrate Rhaegar’s return. Elia found it a welcome distraction and stayed in the queen’s chambers until the moon rose in the sky.

 

* * *

 

 

Rhaegar came to her chambers the night he returned. He was gentle with her. Too gentle. And Elia grew increasingly frustrated.

 

When they were finished, he held her close, his fingers stroking through her hair and over her back. 

 

She thought of Rhaenys’ face when her father had returned, how her little girl had lit up. And Rhaegar had beamed from ear to ear, lifting her into the air and spinning the baby before he kissed her face. He had whispered soft words to Rhaenys that night before a handmaiden had taken her away to her cot. He had whispered so sweetly that Elia had rushed over once Rhaenys was gone, and she had kissed him deeply.

 

Elia looked to her husband lying beside her, bathed in moonlight, and she smiled. She brushed a kiss to his lips as he slept, watching as his eyes moved beneath his closed lids.

 

Her heart beat heavy in her chest. And although his gentleness during their couplings irritated her, she was grateful for his gentleness as he slept beside her. The way he held her like she was precious. And the way he looked at her like he loved her.

 

It had taken Elia a while to come to terms with what she felt for Rhaegar. And it was a thought that both frightened and thrilled her. Elia knew that she loved him. She did not think she would marry a man she would love. But Rhaegar had a kind soul, a gentle touch, and a wit that made her laugh. 

 

And he was a good husband. A good father. A better prince. And possibly, a great king. 

 

That thought made Elia smile, until she remembered Aerys. And she prayed to all the seven that he would leave his wife alone tonight.


	5. The Quiet of Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild adult content in this chapter.

When Rhaenys had turned one Rhaegar had held a magnificent feast for her. The little girl, her brown curls pinned back prettily, had flounced about the hall under the disdainful eye of King Aerys. Elia thanked the gods that the king had decided to leave the hall before the end of the night.

 

Ashara kept a close eye on the child, but Rhaegar had her for the evening and he kept her on his lap throughout the feast, whispering those soft words in her ear.

 

Elia could barely take it. Something about the way he was with Rhaenys made her heart soar. And the way Rhaenys looked at him was so full of love and trust. Elia was grateful to have been blessed with Rhaenys.

 

That night, Rhaegar came to her rooms. He was quiet as he undid the top clasp of his tunic. Elia was in her shift. 

 

When he came to her bed he smiled softly, his fingers gently stroking over her cheek.

 

“You want me tonight?” Elia asked softly.

 

Rhaegar’s eyes softened, “I will always want you.”

 

She felt her breath catch in her throat as he knelt on her bed. “How are you, Elia?” he asked.

 

It was a strange question, and she took a moment to think it over. Was he truly asking? Or asking for show? Did he feel bad that their only real encounters were lacking conversation, and focused mostly on coupling? Perhaps he was checking her strength. Perhaps he would be treating her like glass again tonight.

 

Elia shook her head, “I am fine. But I do not want you to lie with me tonight.” She said.

 

Rhaegar frowned, his eyes searching her face. “Why?”

 

“Because you touch me like I’m something fragile. You handle me like glass. And kiss me like I am your daughter.” She was satisfied when Rhaegar winced.

 

“I am sorry. I know…” He sighed and looked away from her. “I know I have not been fair to you in this regard. You are a woman with her own needs. And I have been forceful with you before. You have a taste for it?”

 

Elia couldn’t help but flush at his words. She swallowed, “I’m a Dornish woman. We are not the sort of women to enjoy overwhelming gentleness in the marriage bed.”

 

“Or any bed, for that matter.” Rhaegar chuckled softly.

 

Elia blinked, raising a brow. “Do you think I am in another’s bed, Rhaegar?”

 

He shook his head quickly and earnestly, but when he saw her smile he realised she had been teasing him. He laughed and Elia was filled with that glorious feeling of contentment.

 

She could almost believe that if she was granted a place in heaven that was what she would find there. Rhaegar’s laughter. And Rhaenys’ smile. And Oberyn’s face that she missed so dearly.

 

“I know you will not be unfaithful to me, Elia.” Rhaegar whispered. And something in his voice made her focus on his eyes. They were shining with intent. And Elia knew that there would be no problem tonight for he would have her as he liked.

 

“How do you know this?” She murmured, not truly paying attention to what she was saying as Rhaegar was leaning in to kiss her, his hand slowly making it’s way up her thigh.

 

He made a small sound, a soft hum. “Because I know that you love me.” He whispered, pressing his lips to hers. Elia wondered if his kiss was a mercy, so she did not have to respond to his words and the way they stripped her bare with their truth.

 

Her body was bare not soon after and his followed suit. He pressed her into the mattress, until she pressed him back with a hand at his chest and they continued with her seated upon his lap.

 

When she was filled with pleasure she pressed her face to Rhaegar’s neck and whispered her love for him. She felt him shudder and his arms came around her. 

 

When they were both spent, he lay her back and sang to her softly. His voice was a gift, and Elia could not help but relax under his hands and beneath his voice. She fell asleep in her husband’s arms, her heart full of love and her mind - for once - at rest.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Oberyn’s letter was a welcome distraction from court at King’s Landing. He had written of their mother briefly, stating that there had been no change in her. He spoke of how he and Doran desperately wanted to see their niece and princess. Elia had kept him updated on Rhaenys, but her brothers had yet to see her daughter.

 

Oberyn mentioned that Doran, Mellario, Arianne, and himself would be attending a tourney in the next two moons. Elia decided to ensure that they go as well, so that they could meet Rhaenys.

 

She sent Rhaegar a letter informing him of the tourney, but it seemed he had planned to go and take both her and Rhaenys along.

 

Her letter had contained other exciting news. She wrote that she swell with his second child, and his reply came swiftly and it was full of joy. He promised to bring back a gift for her, and promise that he would be by her side when she brought their child into the world. 

 

Elia was not full of the same excitement. Although she was happy to have another child, after Rhaenys’, she was full of dread for the delivery. She found herself praying for a son. So that she would not fail Rhaegar, and so that she would do her duty for Westeros.

 

Ashara was a reassuring presence, and the two Dornish women became even closer as Elia voiced her deepest worries and Ashara did her best to allay them. 

 

When Rhaegar returned, he ran to her chambers and swept in like a thunderstorm. The maids stood, shocked as their prince swept his wife into his arms and lifted her from the floor. Her scarlet gown swirled around them as he spun her once, his silver hair over his face as he laughed.

 

Elia could not help but laugh with him. She held to his shoulders as he kissed her and the ladies filed from the room, giggling softly at the scene.

 

It wasn’t long till Rhaenys found her father. She always seemed to know when he was around, and the pitter patter of her small feet could be heard echoing down the hall, along with the heavier footsteps of Ashara, and the clink of the ever present Kingsguard.

 

Rhaegar chuckled, “Our beautiful daughter demands my attention.” He whispered, as Rhaenys’ faint call of ‘baba’ reached their ears.

 

Elia laughed and Rhaegar set her down. “Then you should attend to your princess’ wish to smother you with kisses.”

 

“And what of my wish to smother my dear wife with kisses?”

 

Elia blushed under Rhaegar’s intent gaze. He got to one knee and kissed the slight swell of her belly before Rhaenys burst in with a squeal.

 

Rhaegar laughed and swept her up, holding her tight.

 

Elia watched her husband and daughter with warm eyes, until Rhaenys reached her little arms out to her mother. Elia came over and Rhaegar put a gentle arm around her, patiently watching Rhaenys play with his silver hair.

 

Elia smiled as Rhaegar gently leaned down to kiss her. Her own fingers moved to the ends of his hair.

 

“It seems both my girls are interested in my hair.” Rhaegar raised a brow.

 

Elia laughed, “Well, it’s very nice hair.” She whispered. A dragon’s hair. She looked to Rhaenys and sighed.

 

Rhaegar kept his indigo eyes on her face. “Even if they look like a Martell,” he leaned closer, his forehead against Elia’s temple. “They will be ours. They will be a dragon.” He whispered it with such conviction that Elia could easily believe that their unborn child would have their father’s silver hair.

 

When Elia looked back on that day, she would remember it as the last happy moment she had with her love before he ended it all.

 

* * *

 

 

Harrenhal was probably the ugliest place she had ever seen. The melted stone, the hardened rock. Everything screamed death and destruction. It was an apt place for the beginning of her end.

 

Rhaenys hated the place, too. She cringed away from the very walls as Elia carried her down them. But the little girl had fallen in love with her uncles.

 

Elia had arrived a day prior and she spotted her family from the carriage before it had pulled to a stop. Oberyn jogged forward, Doran following behind with Mellario and Arianne behind him. Elia swept Rhaenys into her arms.

 

Rhaegar dismounted his horse and opened the door of the carriage for them. Elia could barely concentrate when she saw Oberyn’s face. She handed Rhaenys to Ashara and met her brothers.

 

Oberyn swept her into a tight hug, then pulled back and blinked down at her stomach. “Another?” He gasped.

 

Elia grinned, letting out her loud bark of laughter that forced Oberyn to grin again and embrace her tighter.

 

She spent a while hugging each member of her family. She kissed Arianne so many times she thought the little girl would shove her away. And Mellario smiled warmly, placing a gentle hand on Elia’s abdomen as a sign of her support. Elia soared. She had her family with her. Nothing could hurt her anymore. They brought with them the sun. And she wanted Rhaenys to feel it too.

 

She immediately turned to Rhaegar and held her hand out to him. He came to her, taking and kissing her hand. Ashara brought Rhaenys to Elia.

 

Immediately, she chewed at her finger shyly. Oberyn stepped forward and grinned, making a silly face at the baby. Rhaenys giggled, hiding against her father’s chest.

 

Doran approached then, and his calm and controlled movements coaxed Rhaenys towards him. He picked her up, holding his niece close. Elia could not help but sigh happily at the sight. She realised that this is what she had been waiting for.

 

She could feel Rhaegar’s eyes on her as Oberyn stepped forward and made Rhaenys laugh her squeaky laugh. When Elia looked to Rhaegar, he looked away. An echo of confusion passed through her when he would not meet her eyes. But she returned her attention to her family and thought nothing of it.

 

Now Elia walked through the cold halls of Harrenhal, taking Rhaenys to Mellario and Arianne for a while before the tourney began.

 

Mellario was as sharp-tongued as always. And had just birthed Doran a son, Quentyn. Elia wished she could see her nephew, but he was still too young to travel.

 

Arianne didn’t get along with Rhaenys. The toddler found the baby too boring after Rhaenys’ novelty had worn off. But Rhaenys didn’t seem to mind. She was fast asleep in Elia’s arms when Ashara arrived to fetch her as the tourney was beginning.

 

Mellario and Elia walked out, arm in arm until Doran met them. Oberyn followed close behind and Elia gravitated towards her younger brother.

 

“Not competing today?” She teased him as they made their way to the stands. Elia spotted the Lannisters easily, the sunlight glinting of their golden hair. She did not see Jaime with them, and wondered faintly where he had gone.

 

“Not when my dear sister is finally with me again. I must spend time with her, like a good brother.” Oberyn smiled, and his eyes followed her gaze, “Ah. The father lion is furious. The dragon king has taken his son into his guard, and now he has lost his favourite heir to the grey rock he calls a home.”

 

Elia blinked her surprise as Oberyn sat her down. “King Aerys has asked Jaime to join the Kingsguard?”

 

Oberyn smirked and nodded. “Yes. Tywin is furious. Look at him. He is close to turning against Aerys, I am sure. There are seeds of dissent throughout the land.” His grip on Elia’s arm tightened. “Elia,”

 

She swallowed, and before he could say it she knew what he was going to say. “Elia, you must be careful. What with your pregnancy. If the child is a girl, the King will turn against you. He is losing grip on what is left of his mind. If the child is a boy, who knows who will rise up and seek to harm the heir to the Iron Throne.”

 

“Oberyn, stop. You’re frightening me.”

 

She sounded like a fool. She sounded like a true lady. Oberyn noticed and frowned. “What have they made you into down in King’s Landing?”

 

Elia grit her teeth and pinched his arm, “You will know your place, little brother. I have had to do what I have had to do to survive. While you were off… what? Bedding girls in Dorne?”

 

“Fucking girls in Dorne. Have they tamed your tongue as well? Or do you only let it loose to please your pale-skinned husband?”

 

Elia almost slapped him then, but the tourney began before she could retort. Oberyn grinned, knowing he had won. But she was already thinking of how she would string him up later for his words.

 

She drifted during the tourney. Oberyn’s warning had not gone on deaf ears. Elia knew he had a point. And what with mother ill, she hardly had any influence as a Martell any longer. She was the highest player in the game now. She could not be sure that Rhaegar would be on her side in this. He may not see a threat. He may trust his father. But Rhaegar was no fool. Perhaps she would go speak with him after the tourney. She would speak to him on one of the nights he came to her. When they would be alone.

 

The tourney finished quickly, or at least in Elia’s mind it did. She knew the winner before she even looked at her husband, shining in his ruby-studded armour and brandishing his lance to the grey sky.

 

She grinned and clapped along with the others as Lord Walter Whent stood and offered him a crown of winter roses to present to The Queen of Love and Beauty.

 

Elia sat up straighter, her mind cast back to the memory of that first crown of flowers he had given her at a tourney. She had been stunned then, her fingers brushing the petals in an intimate manner that she now turned on Rhaegar’s skin. How things had changed since then.

 

She smiled as Rhaegar looped the crown over the lance and rode his horse in her direction. A grin tugged at her lips, but she suppressed it. She did not want to look too eager. She thought of how the flowers would look upon Rhaenys’ head. How beautiful their daughter would be. How beautiful the child inside her would be if they looked anything like Rhaegar.

 

Her smile faltered and she watched her husband. Watched as he met her eyes and then looked away. Her heartbeat filled her ears, her hands tightening on the material of her black and red gown when she turned her head to watch him ride past her.

 

Instantly, whether instinctual or not, she schooled her expression into one of regal calm. She would not give them the satisfaction of watching her crumble. She would not let anybody believe that Rhaegar was breaking her heart as he was in this moment. For it had already occurred to her that he was presenting the crown to someone else. There was not one ounce of confusion within her about what was to happen next.

 

Elia watched through a haze as he rode his stallion up to the other end of the stands. She could only stare, in both horror and disbelief, as he lifted the wreath on his lance to lay it in her lap.

 

The wolf girl?

 

In an instant, Elia fastened her hand around Oberyn’s wrist and squeezed hard. He winced, but the fury burning in his gaze made her squeeze harder. Lewyn and Doran had their eyes on Oberyn as well, but both men were solemn. Elia wished she could speak to Doran. Perhaps he could explain to her why this had happened. He had always seemed to have the answers.

 

When he looked at her this time all she could see was pity. It enraged her so much that she stood in her seat before she could see Lyanna Stark’s pretty smile and her acceptance of the wreath. She left with her family before she could see her husband smile up at his Queen of Love and Beauty.

 

* * *

 

When they left Harrenhal, Doran and his family accompanied her to King’s Landing. Lewyn ensured that he was always with them. Elia was grateful for her family’s closeness. They were a welcome distraction from the embarrassment she felt whenever another lord or lady looked at her with pity. They distracted her from the heartbreak of Rhaegar’s actions as well.

 

Rhaenys and Arianne were precious to her on the trip to King’s Landing. Once they arrived, Elia went straight to her rooms with both the girls and Mellario and she sat and played with them until the day was done and both children were tired.

 

Elia was tiring quickly, too. She used her exhaustion as an excuse to refuse her husband entry to her rooms when he came calling. In a week, he was gone from King’s Landing, and Elia had not seen him since Harrenhal.

 

It was Rhaella that came to her first. 

“Elia.” The queen spoke from the doorway of her chambers.

 

Elia couldn’t help but stand and move to her. The queen looked tired and Elia’s eyes found fresh bruises on her arms and neck. She took her good-mother’s hand gently.

 

Rhaella smiled and sat with Elia in the sitting room as a handmaiden fetched them tea.

 

“I am sorry for what my son put you through.”

 

Elia sucked in a sharp breath. Speaking with Rhaella was a relief. She never hid behind words or double meanings, not with Elia.

 

“It is not your fault.” Elia murmured, her hand resting on her swollen belly. “I may very well be dead soon, and then he will be free to do as he wishes.”

 

Rhaella sighed, but unlike Ashara did not chastise Elia for her pessimism. Rhaella knew it was entirely possible.

 

“I know you do not want to hear it.” Rhaella said softly and took Elia’s hand. “But I know my son is sorry he has hurt you.”

 

Elia nodded, “I know he is. But that does not take away from the fact that he did it.”

 

Rhaella nodded. “He returns tonight. He has asked me to come to you and ask for you to let him see you tonight.”

 

Elia eyed Rhaella warily, but the queen shook her head with a wry smile. “I am not here to do his bidding. I am here as your friend and good-mother.”

 

The younger woman nodded and hesitated for a moment, “I will see him tomorrow. Not tonight.” Elia said.

 

Rhaella smiled and patted her good-daughter’s hand, relieved by her words.

That night, after Rhaella had left, Elia lay awake in her bed and thought of the next day. Some part of her wanted to see Rhaegar’s face again. And she was too exhausted to attempt to suppress those feelings. She had loved him, even he had known that.

 

Looking back, she could not think of a time when he had said he had loved her. But she had assumed that he had. Oberyn would call her a fool. Her mother would tell her that too.

 

Elia thought of her mother that night and prayed for her soul, for it would not be long till her mother passed.

 

And the next morning while she got dressed a handmaiden brought her a message from her younger brother that informed her of the passing of Loreza Martell.

 

Doran came to her first that morning, with Mellario and Arianne with her. He informed her that Mellario and Arianne would stay on in King’s Landing to keep Elia company, but he had to return to Sunspear for their mother’s funeral.

 

Elia said goodbye to her elder brother and told him to take care of Oberyn for him. Doran smiled that soft smile and held her cheek in his palm before he left. Elia wished she could go with him, but she knew Aerys would never let her return to Dorne. She had long since forgotten the beauty of her home, and could not seem to remember the warmth of the sun, or the smell of the oranges in the Water Gardens. All she could feel now was the cold breeze that blew through the Red Keep, and the stink of Fleabottom it brought with it.

 

She heard him by the door before she saw him. Mellario and Arianne were still with her, Arianne tiring out quickly from her play. Rhaenys was asleep in her cot and the three women, Mellario, Ashara, and Elia were sat around a table and attempting to distract Elia from her sadness.

 

He asked to speak to her in private, that deep voice that still sounded like music to her. She could almost hear him singing to her. It infuriated her that her heart jumped at the sound still. He sounded solemn, and looked the same when she did glance up at him in the doorway.

 

The ladies filed out of the room, but Ashara and Mellario hesitated and looked to Elia. She was grateful for their support, but she nodded for them to leave too.

 

When they were alone, Elia stood and curtseyed to Rhaegar. “My lord. I am glad you returned home safely.”

 

Rhaegar winced and approached her, his arm rising to take her elbow. Elia shifted herself out of reach and he took the hint. “Elia.” He said.

 

She couldn’t help the sob that caught in her throat at the sound of her name.

 

“Elia, I’m sorry.” Rhaegar spoke.

 

She raised her eyes to his and searched his face. “Do you even know what you are sorry for?”

 

Rhaegar swallowed hard, “I…” He started to speak, but shook his head. “I won’t insult you by attempting to explain myself.”

 

Elia laughed then, harsh and angry. She could feel that rage bubbling up inside her, heating her Dornish blood. “Are you afraid you will insult me? Or that I will not understand?” She asked.

 

“You will never tell me anything. Is that why you have chosen the wolf girl instead? Do you believe she is stronger than I am?”

 

“Elia, you aren’t making any sense!”

 

“I am not making sense?” Elia’s voice rose in her anger, her face twisted. “I am not the one lacking sense, my lord. You lost all sense when you lay that cursed crown of flowers in the Stark girl’s lap!”

 

Rhaegar opened his mouth to speak, but Elia was not finished. She did not move towards him, but remained tall and firm, her face hard. “You rode your horse right past me. Your wife! Your wife who now carries your child! Your wife who could very well die delivering your precious heir to you.” She felt the exhaustion hit her like a physical blow.

 

She sank into her chair, forehead in her palm.

 

Rhaegar started forward and knelt before her. “Are you alright, my love?” He whispered.

 

Elia sat back hard, the words making tears sting at her eyes. “Do not insult me with your pretend affection.”

 

“It is not pretend, Elia. You are my wife.” He murmured, tentatively placing a hand on hers.

 

She looked to his hand on hers. “If you treated me as your wife then you would not have done what you did.”

 

Rhaegar bit his lip, letting out a shaky sigh. Elia looked to him, watching as he sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his silver hair.

 

She hadn’t ever noticed how tired he looked. How stressed.

 

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted me to be.” Elia whispered.

 

Rhaegar said nothing, but looked to her stomach. “You will be fine. When you deliver them.” He looked up at her. “I will be there. Even if you may not want me.”

 

“You say one thing but will do another. You make love to me, then crown another woman your Queen of Love and Beauty.” Elia sneered and snatched her needlework up, focusing her attention on the needle and thread, “You say you will be here then leave for weeks on end.”

 

Rhaegar grit his teeth. “What do you want me to do?” 

 

Elia leaned forward suddenly and snarled in his face, “Your duty.” There was no sympathy in her gaze. 

 

And Rhaegar took a deep breath. He rose to the challenge and took her hand in his. “I am sorry for your mother.” He said. 

 

Elia let out a hiss of pain and glanced down at the needle that had pricked her thumb. Rhaegar leaned forward and lifted her hand to see. “You’re hurt.” He said, taking the needlework form her.

 

Elia snorted a laugh, “That’s not what hurts me.”

 

Rhaegar hung his head. “I wish you could go to Dorne. I will try to send you there. After our child is born.”

 

“Your precious dragon.” 

 

Rhaegar stiffened and watched her, “Has this been who you are this whole time? Has the kind and loving wife I knew completely gone? Have I killed her?”

 

Elia swallowed her anger and watched his indigo eyes. “I cannot say.” She murmured.

 

His brows arched in surprise. Elia did not say anything else. Let him take from that what he would. Let her have this child and decide what to do afterwards. Perhaps she will take him back. Should he beg forgiveness. The thought made Elia laugh softly.

 

“I will take my leave of you then, my dear wife.” Rhaegar paused, waiting for her to snap at him. She remained still, her eyes watching him.

 

“My heart.” He swallowed and leaned in to kiss her forehead before he left the room swiftly.

 

Elia wondered if he truly cared for her. If he ever had. But the look in his eyes, she could not deny, that he loved her. Somehow and in some way, he cared for her. And it gave her a little comfort.

 

Perhaps she had not been such a fool after all.


	6. A Red Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain mentions of violence.

The pain was excruciating. Elia thought that perhaps this time was worse than the last time.

 

At least she had Mellario there with her. And Ashara holding her other hand. Elia stared out the window and struggled to hold on to consciousness long enough to birth the child. She knew she must be on the edge of exhaustion when she glimpsed a red star in the sky.

 

When she heard the baby cry it was like a switch went off inside her and her body collapsed onto the bed and she fell unconscious.

 

She woke a moon later, her body weaker than she had ever been. Ashara sat with her, and by the window sat Rhaegar. Elia blinked in surprise at his presence for she had not actually believed he would be there as he said he would.

 

He looked to her when she woke, but made no move to come to her as Ashara handed her a glass of water.

 

“Where is he?” Elia croaked.

 

Rhaegar’s brows rose. “How do you know it is a boy?”

 

She was filled with relief. She had not known for sure, but Rhaegar had confirmed it. From the look of relief on her face, which she did not try to hide as she was too exhausted, Rhaegar chuckled softly. Elia could tell he was happy, from the brightness in his eyes, and the way his fists clenched and unclenched as he did when he was excited. 

 

A sharp pang of sadness echoed in her chest. Did Lyanna Stark see these things in him? Did her heart beat faster when he entered a room? Did he see those small signs in her?He had not run away with her, after all! But Elia had no doubts that he was somehow in contact with the young woman. His actions at Harrenhal had all but confirmed it. Elia forced herself to put Lyanna Stark from her mind.

 

Her husband stood and left the room. He returned with the baby in his arms. Her son. Elia could not help but smile.

 

Ashara had helped her sit up and was mopping her face with a damp cloth, but Elia gently pushed her hand away and reached for her son.

 

Rhaegar handed him to her gently, settling the small boy in her arms. Elia’s heart leapt in her chest when she saw the soft silver hairs atop the boy’s head, and when he opened his eyes to peer up at her she let out a choked sob when she saw his violet eyes.

 

“A boy…” She breathed the words out in wonder. She had done it.

 

A smile pulled at her lips. She had done her duty. She had given Rhaegar his son, his Targaryen boy. And she had given Westeros their heir. 

 

She could almost hear her mother’s voice, telling her she had done well. Elia cried softly, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and falling from her chin to the baby’s blanket.

 

Her son wiggled in her arms and stared, watching his mother sob. Elia could feel her body releasing all that pent up worry, all that stress, and grief, and her overwhelming love for her children.

 

Rhaegar’s hand twitched and he watched her sadly before he took a seat at the edge of her bed. He gestured for Ashara to leave them, but Elia’s friend hesitated. Elia looked up and offered her a reassuring smile. She felt such gratitude for her friend’s loyalty to her and watched Ashara as she left the room.

 

Rhaegar looked to their son and Elia managed to compose herself, despite it seeming a monumental task in her weakened state.

 

“What have you named him?” She asked, and in her tone there was an accusation.

 

Rhaegar sighed, and Elia knew he would not be apologetic this time. “Aegon.” His gaze returned to his son. “What better name for a king?” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, and such a fire in his eyes that Elia had to look away.

 

A moment of silence passed between them as Elia thought over Rhaegar’s passion for the child in her arms. How he already had such plans for him.

 

She let a scoff escape her, “Will you make a song for him?”

 

Rhaegar looked up at her and stood from the bed. He smiled and stroked Aegon’s small head, his hand near her arm. Elia felt the ghost of his touch before he spoke. “He has a song.” Rhaegar smiled.

 

Elia looked up and held her breath.

 

“He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” 

 

Elia frowned at her husband, but he was not paying attention to her. She wondered for the first time if there was something about these children that Rhaegar had planned. Rhaenys and now Aegon… Elia knew the stories of Aegon the Conqueror.

 

“There must be one more.” Rhaegar murmured, as if to himself.

 

Elia blinked up at him in disbelief and Rhaegar finally looked at her, and shrugged with one shoulder. “The dragon has three heads.”

 

She thought she may explode.

 

Elia grit her teeth and thrust the baby at Rhaegar. “Visenya?” She demanded. For Elia was no fool. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Visenya had been the three dragon heads when the Targaryens had conquered Westeros. Whatever mission Rhaegar was on to recreate his ancestor’s legacy, Elia would not be a part of it any longer. She could not. There was no way she could bear another child for him.

 

“You demand that of me? Do you wish for me to die?” Elia asked, and the anger seeped from her voice and was replaced by exhaustion.

 

Rhaegar shook his head, returning to himself. “No, no… You have always been enough, Elia. I can ask no more of you.”

 

“Who will you ask it from, then?” Elia asked. “I have failed you. Perhaps you would not feel the need to go searching for another broodmare if I were able to bear your Visenya for you.” She whispered.

 

Rhaegar bit down on his bottom lip and sighed heavily. “I am sorry.” Rhaegar’s brows pulled together in pain. Elia blinked up at him and he swallowed hard, “That is all I can say to you. I have hurt you and I am sorry.”

 

He moved to the door, leaving her to rest. Before he left he turned, his silver haired prince in his arms, “And I am sorry for what is to come.”

 

Elia had no energy left to understand him. And even if she had the energy, she knew she could not. She never had.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Elia took longer to recover this time, but with her children with her all day and with Ashara’s help, she was on her feet again and taking short walks about her chambers. She did not come to court often, and found that she did not care any longer. She had done her duty. Had brought a Targaryen son into the world. And Rhaegar was gone for longer than usual. She knew that without him there Aerys would be worse than usual.

 

Aerys had been growing rougher with Rhaella, and had taken to burning men alive in the throne room. Elia knew that he would not let her go. Not when he was now burning his supposed enemies alive. And everyone was an enemy to Aerys Targaryen.

 

Elia was surprised to find a friend in Jaime Lannister, Tywin’s son. He had been stationed to protect Elia while the other Kingsguard were with Rhaegar wherever he was.

 

Rhaenys liked Jaime and often hugged his legs, making the boy blush bright red. He was a good friend and often permitted himself to involve himself in conversation with Elia, but he never ventured out of bounds. He was loyal. And Elia found she could trust him with her children, and her own safety.

 

She saw his face when he returned from the throne room. And she could smell the burnt flesh on his body as he returned to his post in her chambers. Elia asked him to take Rhaenys for a walk when he came back this way. When he returned, holding her daughter’s hand awkwardly, he always had a small smile on his face.

 

It was in the same year of Aegon’s birth, just before the turn of the year and Elia was sitting with Ashara after a particularly taxing day where she had been particularly tired.

 

There was a knock on the door and Gerold Hightower entered, bowing low to Elia. “Apologies, my queen. I must speak with Ser Jaime Lannister.” He said.

 

Elia nodded, but Gerold was already turning to Jaime, a note of panic in his actions. Elia perked up, listening in to their conversation as best she could.

 

Jaime swallowed hard and straightened, nodding his understanding before Gerold bowed to Elia again and left.

 

“What did he say?” Elia asked Jaime.

 

The young Kingsguard shook his head, “It is nothing, my queen. I do not wish to worry you.” His smooth voice was shaky, and his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. 

 

“You will tell me, Ser Jaime.”

 

Jaime hesitated and glanced to the window. “Brandon Stark-“

 

“Rhaegar!”

 

A roar sounded from outside the window, overlooking the courtyard of the Red Keep. Elia shot to her feet, but Ashara was quicker. She rushed to the window, Jaime following her.

 

“Come out and die, prince!” The man’s voice yelled, such fury in his words.

 

Elia’s heart sped up in her chest and she rushed to the window, looking out to find a group of men, dressed in the darker Northern garb. She could spot Brandon Stark from where she was, the eldest Stark was tall and muscular, and was brandishing his sword.

 

His face was hard, set in a furious mask.

 

“Oh, by the seven.” Elia breathed out, all three pairs of eyes fixed on the scene. “What has he done?”

 

Jaime stepped back first, composing himself. “You are to remain here, my queen. He will not harm you here.” He bowed to Elia.

 

Elia couldn’t help but laugh. “He is not here for me. Did you not hear? He is calling for my husband’s head.”

 

Elia peered out the window and her eyes slid to Ashara’s face. She was pale, watching the scene with horror. “Shut up, you fool.” She breathed out, so quiet that Elia could barely hear her.

 

She looked to Brandon, seeing the Kingsguard and palace soldiers pour out into the courtyard to meet the Northerners.

 

Elia took Ashara’s arm. “Do not watch, Ashara.”

 

Her friend looked to her with wide eyes. “Because I am a lady?” She asked.

 

Elia frowned, unsure of the meaning of her asking the question. But she shook her head. 

 

“No. Because you will be hurt by what you see.”

 

Elia knew Ashara had danced with Brandon Stark at Harrenhal. Although she had been in a sort of stupor the whole time, after Rhaegar’s betrayal, she had noticed how Ashara had dazzled the men in the room. Elia did not know the extent of her relationship with Brandon Stark, but she knew that if he was cut down in the courtyard, Ashara should not see it.

 

Ashara swallowed hard and did not argue as Elia led her back to her seat.

 

Elia turned to Jaime. “What has my husband done?” She demanded.

 

The boy hesitated a moment before Elia raised her brow. He straightened and did not meet her eyes when he spoke. “He has… abducted Lyanna Stark of Winterfell.”

 

Elia felt the breath rush out of her. “Abducted?” She whispered into the silent room, the only noise filling the air was the clank of swords from the courtyard below, and the yell of dying men.

 

Ashara took her hand. “Elia.” But even her friend had nothing to say.

 

Elia was grateful for the silence. She did not think she could keep herself composed should someone attempt to explain this away.

 

He had done it. He had found another for his third child. For the third dragon head. 

 

A part of her was not surprised. He had chosen Lyanna that day at the tourney. Perhaps he had done it because she was more beautiful and his heart told him to crown her. And it was a good thing he had done it. For now that he knew Elia could not bear another child, he had Lyanna Stark to give him his Visenya.

 

But the logic did not take away Elia’s pain. The feeling of desolation within her. All that was left were her children, in her mind. And Ashara.

 

“Was Lyanna Stark not betrothed?” Elia managed to ask.

 

Jaime nodded, his eyes full of that child’s sympathy. He did not know it disgusted her. He did not know that seeing that pity in his eyes ignited a fire within her and made her harden.

 

“He was betrothed to Robert Baratheon.” He said.

 

Ashara gave Elia a knowing look. “Aerys will not take kindly to Brandon’s actions today.”

 

Elia squeezed Ashara’s hand. “No, he will not. And Robert Baratheon will not take kindly to the abduction of his beloved.”

 

Jaime looked between the two women, puzzled for a moment. His expression shifted when he understood. In typical Kingsguard fashion, he bowed low. “I will protect you with my life, my queen. You know I shall.”

 

Elia laughed and did not reply. For she knew that in war nothing was certain.

 

That night she would be glad of Jaime and his pity. For seeing it had prevented her from breaking down into tears in front of them both. And now she could do so in the privacy of her empty chambers. While she lay alone in her empty bed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

War came swiftly. And Elia sent Ashara back to Starfall. Ashara had refused at first, but Elia could not keep her in King’s Landing during a war. Even if the war did not reach them, which Elia did not believe, Aerys’s madness was far reaching and Elia did not want Ashara to attract his attention.

 

She was left with Jaime Lannister for companionship, and that of her two children. She spent her days playing with Rhaenys and Aegon. 

 

Rhaenys was speaking to her, although most was nonsense, as she was three years. She often spoke of her father, and wondered where he was. Elia could not bring herself to tell her the truth.

 

Robert Baratheon was a menacing opponent, and after the deaths of Brandon and his father, Rickard, he had the support of many in his campaign to overthrow Aerys. If Elia was honest, she desperately wanted Aerys to be overthrown, for the man must be insane.

 

But Elia wasn’t a fool. She knew that if Baratheon took the throne, her children’s lives would be at risk. She had expressed such worries to the one man she knew could help her.

 

Varys had promised his assistance in her plan. And although the thought of it being necessary was like a blow to her heart, she knew that she must do what she can. Her mother would be proud of her.

 

Oberyn wrote her frightening letters, begging her to leave King’s Landing and return home. But Aerys refused to let her out of his sight.

 

Jaime Lannister informed her one day that Gerold Hightower had left King’s Landing at the request of the king, and he was sent to retrieve Rhaegar.

 

Elia knew that this was so he could go into battle. She woke in the morning with that thought in her mind. And she went to bed praying for his safety. 

 

Despite it all, she did not want to see Rhaegar die. Because he was the heir, and should take the throne after Aerys’ dies. But she could not deny that she loved him still, and to have him gone would put such a hole in her heart.

 

She knew that Robert Baratheon must die for Rhaegar to assume the throne. And she knew that Aerys must die too. At times she was willing to put a dagger into the king herself.

 

But Elia knew her power lied in secrecy and schemes. And so Varys had become her weapon. And she trusted the man to do as she bid.

 

Rhaegar returned a moon later, without his Kingsguard with him. Elia could only guess where Dayne, Whent, and Hightower were. She asked Jaime the day Rhaegar was set to leave for the Trident to meet Robert Baratheon in battle.

 

“I do not know, my queen. They don’t tell me these things.” He smiled softly.

 

Elia sighed and collected Aegon from a maid, tucking her son into her arms and kissing his face softly. Jaime averted his eyes from the affection, but smiled to Rhaenys as she walked up and took her mother’s hand.

 

They were to send Rhaegar off. And possibly say goodbye. It was a horrifying thought, and Elia did not dwell on it for long for fear she would cry and betray herself.

 

“My queen,” Jaime began and regained her attention. “The King wishes for me to remain in the throne room with him. You are no longer to have a Kingsguard with you.” 

 

Elia took a deep breath. She had expected as much. “You must do your duty, Jaime.” 

 

At his first name he blinked in surprise. Elia wondered if she would see the boy again. She smiled to him with affection, “And I must do mine.”

 

Rhaegar waited for them in the courtyard, in his full battle armour. He looked regal. He looked like her prince from that first tourney, when he had given her that crown of summer flowers. Her heart ached at the memory.

 

Rhaenys ran to her father and hugged him. He lifted her into the air, his beautiful face lit up from within. He kissed her cheeks and held her close until she whined about the rubies on his armour and he laughed and set her down again.

 

His eyes found Elia’s then, and his face returned to that controlled expression. He raised an arm and beckoned her to him. 

 

She came when he called and offered Aegon to him in her slight panic. She did not want to say goodbye to him. She did not want to risk her tears, or to pretend she was at peace with what he had done. She was furious, she was angry and hurting, and she was deeply sad. A part of her already mourned her husband. For she knew she had already lost him.

 

Looking at his face as he smiled down at their son, she wondered what it would be like to never see this face again. And she didn’t like that thought. 

 

Her eyes moved to her feet when Rhaegar took Aegon from her and whispered soft words to him. She blinked rapidly, clutching at a semblance of composure.

 

When Rhaegar looked up at his wife, his eyes softened. “Elia.”

 

She almost broke again, but met his gaze. For a moment, she let him see her suffering, her confusion and the strength of emotion within her.

 

It was not a surprise when his gaze softened further and he reached a hand out to brush her cheek with his fingertips. It was a memory of a touch. And a part of her recoiled from the fingers she knew had touched another woman. A part of her leaned into his warmth - a desperate part of her wanted it.

 

“Elia, I am sorry.” He whispered so softly she could barely hear him.

 

She nodded, “I know that you are, Rhaegar.”

 

When she said his name, she watched his eyes brighten. She knew he cared for her. That a part of him loved her. But it was not the love she wanted. It was not the love she should have. It was not the love of a husband, or lover, but that of a friend. Of family.

 

“Be safe, my prince.” Elia murmured.

 

He handed Aegon to a handmaiden and embraced her. Elia allowed him, and that calm part of her - so similar to that of Doran - knew that she could not pull away and spurn him in front of the spectators. 

 

That wild part of her, that part that he ignited within her - so like Oberyn - forced her to close her eyes and breath in Rhaegar’s scent. 

 

He released her a moment later and smiled. She wished she could hear his laughter one last time. Perhaps she could tell a joke? Make him laugh so she could have that memory at least.

 

But it was too late, he was turning away to hug Rhaenys again.

 

Elia stepped back and collected Aegon. 

 

She watched as Rhaegar mounted his horse. 

 

And she watched as he left, never once looking back at her.

 

Elia could not hold back her wry smile. Finally, he was the perfect image of a prince.

 

Just when she wanted him not to be.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The news of Rhaegar’s death came from Rhaella, through a written message.

 

Aerys had sent her to Dragonstone, and there were rumours that she was pregnant. Viserys had gone with her. Elia wished she could have said goodbye to her friends, but Aerys was keeping her in Maegor’s Holdfast.

 

Her uncle had perished at the Trident, too. And Elia mourned him, too. His death, somehow, had convinced Aerys that the Martells were the reason for Rhaegar’s defeat and death at the hands of Robert Baratheon. He refused to allow Elia and her children to leave King’s Landing, believing that keeping them there was enough to ensure the Martell’s loyalty.

 

Elia wondered if Oberyn was coming for her. She could almost imagine her reckless brother turning up at the steps of the Red Keep to get her. And perhaps Doran would help. He would encourage some secrecy. And her children would be safe, all three of them snuck out of the city with Martell guards at their back.

 

But Elia knew it was not to be.

 

She kept Rhaenys close. And her heart broke whenever her daughter smiled. Or when she watched her play, her innocence like a halo.

 

It was not looking good. To remain in King’s Landing was a death sentence. Elia knew. And she could do nothing except save her son the only way she knew how.

 

At the news of the Lannister army riding for King’s Landing, Elia called Varys to her and with a soft kiss on Aegon’s head, the deed was done.

 

She cradled the baby boy to her breast that night. The chambers were as dark as the city and filled with the same terror.

 

She heard the screams and shrieks of death from outside. Tywin Lannister had his revenge. She knew that Aerys would be dead soon. She prayed that Jaime would be safe. And she prayed for her son.

 

Elia could barely breathe that night, standing like a statue by the window. She took deep shaking breaths, the sounds of the sacking filling her head and her ears. She stroked the baby’s head, to bring them both some comfort.

 

When the trembling handmaiden ran to her and spoke of two men climbing Maegor’s Holdfast, she ordered her to find the princess.

 

When the handmaiden did not return, Elia knew the men had come. She did not blame Rhaegar for failing in protecting them. It had been his duty. And he had shirked his duty at every turn. How could she expect it of him then?

 

She clutched the baby to her and the screams of her daughter - the sobbing, choking, drowning squeals of her precious Rhaenys - were like white noise in her ears when she turned to find the monster of a man filling her doorway.

 

Elia thought of her mother when it happened. She thought of Rhaegar. And her sweet daughter’s smile. Elia thought of her son, and prayed for where he might be, as the baby in her arms was ripped away.

 

She thought of her brothers. Of Doran’s soft eyes.

 

And Oberyn. And his grinning face.

 

She thought of the beautiful laugh of a silver-haired man that had been hers in some way.

 

At the end she could only think of the pain in her body and then the gleam of his great sword filled her vision. It filled her with a desperate terror and relief.

 

And then Elia thought of nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very difficult to write. I almost think my heart broke because it hurts a little.


End file.
